Mirror Me Dark
by Semdai Bloodquill
Summary: Entreri and Jarlaxle have been captured by a rival guild, a plague is sweeping the world, an army of drow is marching on the surface, and it's up to Entreri's daughter and Drizzt's sons to stop it.
1. Part 1 : Of Blood, Skin, and Spirit

Full disclaimer in next chapter but for now I don't own anybody from FR.  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Part One : Of Blood, Skin, and Spirit  
  
When I hear the tales of the drow I wonder how such a society can survive. So dependent upon prejudice to keep their lives together. Drow teach their children to hate from the time they can first comprehend the word. They teach them to hate based on hypocrisy. The dark elves are not stupid creatures though. They teach hatred because that is all they have ever known from both the surface races and their own kin. Drow are individual survivors.  
  
Drow of like minds survive together, as Bregan D'arthe does. Drow houses are a form of polite slavery, the males being submissive to the females, but in the event of a house war the males are usually the first to switch their allegiance once the battle starts to favor one side. The drow are not a race that survives together because the drow are a race bent on personal glory. They ally with each other when they must, but beyond that drow are individual survivors.  
  
The goodly races see this as both selfish and wrong. Why then have they not massed together to destroy the evil elves?  
  
They are too weak.  
  
And I do not mean that surface dwellers are a physically weak people, an army of the goodly races would be formidable indeed. But they must realize that those that hate each other as the drow do can easily ban together should there rise an enemy more threatening than the drow ahead or behind in line. This, I believe, is how the drow have managed to exist. That and the fact that a force powerful enough to eliminate all the drow of the Underdark would require that all the goodly races ban together, from the most powerful sorcerers down to the beggars of Calimport.  
  
That feat is not possible for the surface dwellers. We are a species too separated by prejudice. Elves and dwarves, for example, are complete opposites and therefor are wary of one another. Humans are likewise shunned by dwarves for being too soft for their tastes and many elves I have met have sneered at me because of my heritage, even gone so far as to condemn my half-elvin mother and my full-human father.  
  
Menzoberranzan, Ched Nasad, and the other drow cities survive because of prejudice.  
  
Prejudice is a powerful enemy and ally. To assume that your opponent will surely fall to you just because your opponent is an orc or a goblin is dangerous. Because orcs and goblins are presumed stupid, the higher races tend to assume that orcs and goblins can't win against them. I have watched many aspiring assassins die for such misleading pride and arrogance.  
  
However, it is a double edged blade, prejudice. Say that I was the same person I am now but a goblin instead of mixed human and elf. Attackers would assume that I would be just another stupid goblin and attempt to kill me.  
  
They would be dead within seconds.  
  
The prejudice against the drow is similar. I have seen countless assassins who boast that they do not fear the black elves turn tail and run for their lives at the mere sight of a solitary drow. Likewise I have seen dark elves die at the hands of humans because they were arrogant enough to let their guard slip at the notion of fighting a non-drow.  
  
When I listen to the tales of Drizzt Do'Urden I wonder how he obtained the courage to walk on the surface. Surely he must have known how the surface dwellers would see him. They would take one look at his white hair and ebony skin and either chase him away or attempt to kill him. Such is the nature of prejudice.  
  
Yet he found friends to accept him. I admire his bravery in facing the prejudice of the surface people. It takes courage to forsake one's heritage. It takes even more courage to face another's unjust prejudice. To stand with your hands out before a group that would sooner kill you than learn your name requires hope. Assassins like me can't have hope or prejudice. Neither can get the job done.  
  
We cannot afford to have friendships such as the kind Drizzt Do'Urden had either. And I use 'had' because my father tells me that Drizzt Do'Urden is dead and has been since long before I was born. When Jarlaxle tells me his stories, he hints that this is not entirely true.  
  
I know not if my father is telling me a lie to keep me from challenging the renegade drow (a feat I have no desire to attempt) or if Jarlaxle is purposefully contradicting my father's words to teach me something. I have never known either to lie outright to me, but at the same time neither is known for telling the whole truth.  
  
It would be a new experience for me to love someone, for I do not believe that there is anyone (outside the love a daughter has for her father) that I truly love. No. As I pen these thoughts I realize that is not entirely true either. I do feel a sense of love for my only friend outside my family. 'Friend' meaning the only one who has not yet turned against me. In some way I feel love for that swashbuckling drow who had a hand in raising me to be the assassin that I am today. I confess here that in some way I do love Jarlaxle.  
  
I have wondered often how Jarlaxle would treat me had I been born to his race instead of my father's. Would he still have taught me the steps of his unique fighting style? Would he still have picked me up by the waist and spun me around when I was a little girl? Would he still have taught me how to dance when I was a blooming woman? How different would we be had I been born a drow? He would still be the cunning and devious mercenary that he is and I would be an unwilling servant of the Spider Queen. Unless I joined his band.  
  
I wonder...  
  
Would he have still loved me as I know he does had I been born with white hair and black skin?  
  
Then again, he and I are creatures of the shadows. Our kind is not meant to love. We are only meant to hate and kill. That is the only reason we exist. Jarlaxle and I cannot love eachother. Or can we?  
  
What do I know. I am but a girl of seventeen.  
  
What can I know of love?  
  
- Lazuli Entreri 


	2. 1 Pace and Progeny

Dedication : This tale is dedicated in full to Ethan,  
  
Who fashioned for me two swords and taught me how to use them in the style of the dark elves I would grow to love under his tutlage, who would, on a whim, debate with me endlessly on whether elves or dwarves were better though we both knew that niether could be swayed, the first of my friends to ever call me an elf...  
  
A dwarf-at-heart who named a crazy, would-be drow elf as one of his dearest friends...  
  
That would-be drow you taught so well salutes you with a blessing you said to me many times as you left my house to walk back to your own: "May the winds ever blow at your back, your blades be ever sharp, and your friends ever true!"  
  
If dwarves were real, you would be one my friend (after you grew a beard of course)...  
  
Thank you for introducing me to the Forgotton Realms and giving me the inspiration I needed when I didn't believe in myself anymore as a person...  
  
I miss you and hope you are happy...  
  
Disclaimer : I'm starting to run short of ideas for humorous disclaimers (I try to make them funny to make up for how boring they are). But since I'm short of ideas for the time being I'll just state plainly that I do not own any of the characters, places, ect. that were originally conceived by RAS. However the following characters are my own creations and I ask that they not be stolen (I am more than willing to share them as long as my consent is sought first), Nessa Seralon; Dagasta Seralon; Reigaldus Seralon; Lazuli Entreri; Antioch Baenre; Zandrath Baenre; Sordath Do'Urden; Binx Do'Urden; Montolio Do'Urden; Seivriel Versail; Abominashi the Black; Mizumiyukiel the Speckled; Andrazilian the White; Deizandranzelynagolem the Scarlet.  
  
They are mine, please don't steal them.  
  
And for future reading - When I say 'Entreri' I am referring to Artemis Entreri not Lazuli.  
  
And with that out of the way, the story can begin.  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter One : Pace and Progeny  
  
" Attack me again, Lazuli, but faster this time," the old assassin instructed to his young pupil, he relaxed his grip on his weapons, but never shifted the gaze of his dark gray eyes off of his student. Lazuli matched her teacher's gaze and swung her twin sabers in circles at her sides before she moved in. She was adept at the style of fighting with two weapons of equal length, a credit to her second teacher. The old assassin was equally adept at his own style of dirk and saber.  
  
The older assassin glided in with a speed that belied the spread of his dark, gray eye color into his once jet-black hair. His step was light, as if his feet simply didn't touch the ground, and as silent as the treacherous shadows that made his home, and just as deadly. His knee-high, leather boots made not a whisper on the hard floor and the great speed he had known in his youth was by no amount diminished by his age. Lazuli's only salvation was her experience with the wise, old assassin, having learned early in her decade of training with him and Jarlaxle that speed was as much Artemis Entreri's weapon as was his saber, Charon's Claw, and his spirit-stealing dagger that boasted no name save for the countless souls it had drained over the years it had been wielded by Calimport's most feared assassin.  
  
Jarlaxle stretched his long legs out before him as he observed the sparring match between the two assassins. He kept his bald head, adorned by a great, plumed hat, tilted back and his drow eyes, pained somewhat by the room's light, on the two assassins. Entreri amazed him, always had, but Lazuli captivated him as Entreri never could. She was sleek, like a cat, lengthy of limb, and hair as black as Jarlaxle's ebony skin, which she kept in a tight, braided tail that fell down the length of her back. Her large eyes were slanted at extraordinary angles and colored as if they were made from stone, but soft and caring as only a teenage girl's eyes can be. Her attire made her all the more attractive to sly Jarlaxle's dark eyes. She often wore a cape, but she had discarded it for the match in favor of showing off her body, slender as any elf and just as quick, strong and muscled like a man's, and remarkably flexible as only those of the female sex can be.  
  
Lazuli came at Entreri hard and fast, her two sabers working in harmony with each other and putting the older assassin back on his heels for an moment. A short moment, for Entreri had pushed her back with a mighty swing of Charon's Claw and a low stab with his dagger. Lazuli had expected the move, however, and matched it with a block from both sabers as she slide to the left of Entreri and twirled behind him, nicking the back of his right leg as she went.  
  
" First blood to Lazuli," Jarlaxle applauded from his seat, noting the streak of scarlet of Lazuli's blade.  
  
Entreri instinctively jumped away from Lazuli, making sure to land on his left leg, and swiped behind him, hoping to at least force her back. He was unlucky and Lazuli made use of his minor injury. She came again and made to attack his left. When Entreri moved to guard his vulnerable left flank, Lazuli reversed her strike, hitting his unguarded right hip hard with the flat of her saber. She darted back next, using her momentum to execute a backward somersault and effectively dodge a downward strike from Charon's Claw.  
  
" Anticipation," Jarlaxle remarked, " effective and cunning." Lazuli was on her feet again in an instant, an instant Entreri used to close the distance between them. They fought their next few attacks in close combat, often locking blades and having to rely on brute force to escape, a force where the two were equally matched. Jarlaxle's eyes widened in surprise when Lazuli feinted a direct attack at Entreri's ribs, but instead dove into a roll that knocked the older assassin off balance and put his crafty student in line for a killing blow.  
  
" I yield," Entreri surrendered when the flat of one saber pressed hard into the small of his back and the tip of the second tickled the muscles between his shoulder blades. Lazuli withdrew her sabers and waited. Entreri turned and faced her, a pleased smile on his sharp features. " You have learned much," he praised, calmly placing a hand on her shoulder, " I am proud of you."  
  
" When your lovely daughter defeats both her teachers so effectively then I would praise her, Artemis," Jarlaxle baited, emphasizing the words 'both' and 'then.' It was true that Lazuli had yet to beat her second teacher. The dark elf tipped the brim of his hat farther up with the point of his throwing dagger. His dark, blue eyes seemed without pupils in the light his race so despised.  
  
" Hold your tongue, Jarlaxle," the old assassin admonished coldly, " or I shall cut it from your mouth." Jarlaxle offered a cocky smirk and leaned back even farther in his swiveled chair, loving the position for the way it stretched his slender and powerfully muscled body, all too accustomed to threats from Artemis Entreri and completely unfazed.  
  
Lazuli placed her sabers in the sheaths at her shapely hips and waited for the fight to break out between the drow and the assassin. The fight did not come and after several seconds of quiet Entreri shook his head and took his leave. Jarlaxle grinned triumphantly at the departing assassin and leaned back in his chair at an impossible angle.  
  
Jarlaxle had always been a mystery to Lazuli. He liked his head bald, and wore outrageous clothes unheard of among drow or humans, particularly his great plumed hat out of which he could pull just about anything he wanted. Furthermore, Lazuli knew he was well past five hundred years old, but he didn't look a day over twenty.  
  
It occurred to Lazuli as she followed Entreri out of the room that even if her father someday did take out Jarlaxle's tongue, the dark elf would only find new ways to agitate him. And nothing seemed to please the exotic drow more than pushing Artemis Entreri's buttons.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
" GO!"  
  
Sordath's long legs launched him swiftly and gracefully over the snow at the sound of his older brother's voice. Beside him, Binx sprinted forward over the snow in fast pursuit.  
  
Sordath was younger than his sister, but with that came a smaller size and considerably less weight to carry. But Binx was very slender, as elves go, and her legs were longer, though not quite as muscled as her brother's.  
  
" You won't beat me, little brother," Binx yelled over her right shoulder as she passed Sordath. On her left, though, her other brother came up and easily passed her.  
  
Monty was the smallest and fastest of the three, he was also the middle child, born three years after Binx and six years before Sordath. He was very quiet, shy, and exceptionally fast.  
  
Sordath used Binx's surprise at Monty's joining their race to his advantage, passing his sister and almost catching his brother. He knew he didn't need to pass Monty to win, the race was between him and Binx. And a good thing too, when Monty ran he was little more than streak of black to the still standing eye.  
  
The siblings had agreed beforehand that they would race fairly. This was a contest of speed. Thus Sordath was more than a little angry when he felt a set of arms grab his ankles and yank his feet out from under him. He went down hard on his front, accidentally biting his tongue painfully as he landed. The breath was knocked out of his lungs from the impact and he had to wait for several seconds before he could breathe again.  
  
Binx took those seconds and the victory of the race as she jetting across the snow and gripped her long, black fingers around the lowest limb of the tree that served as their finish line. Sordath came up panting hard from improper breathing and scowling at Binx with his golden yellow eyes.  
  
" You cheated," he accused angrily. Binx brandished her arm for her brother, showing prominently her ebony-black skin.  
  
" I AM a dark elf," she reminded.  
  
" Our heritage is not an excuse to cheat," Sordath battled heatedly, " what would Father say?"  
  
" Father is not here," Binx countered.  
  
" What if I tell him," Sordath shot, anger clear in his yellow eyes. Binx had to be careful. Sordath was far from being a tattle-tale but there was no doubt that he would tell their father if he felt like it. The youngest sibling thrived in the family because he was unpredictable. Had they lived in a drow city, it would have been in Binx's power to silence her brother, but she couldn't up here. And likely she would not have had the gall to do it in the Underdark.  
  
" I'm sorry," Binx apologized, sincerely, to her brother. Sordath seemed to calm down at Binx's apology. The youngest drow strode up to his sister and stared into her bright orange eyes. Impossibly fast, his fist shot out and collided with Binx's jaw. She stumbled back, holding her mouth and spitting blood from her torn lip.  
  
" Now we are even," Sordath declared impassively, turning and stomping away.  
  
" That wasn't very sportsman-like," Monty remarked from his perch on the branch just above Sordath's head.  
  
" Neither was her stunt," Sordath remarked bitterly, leaning against the tree, sucking in a deep breath to calm himself, and glaring at Binx, who was already starting back for the mines, holding her mouth in one hand.  
  
" Two wrongs hardly make a right," Monty added, using a long, bone-handled knife to pick dirt out from under his fingernails.  
  
" What's done is done," Sordath countered, walking away from the tree in the opposite direction as Binx.  
  
" She did apologize," Monty reminded, he didn't speak very loudly but Sordath heard him perfectly and grumbled all the louder for it. " Just because we are drow doesn't mean we have to be like them," Monty remarked to himself as he slid his knife away and climbed higher into the tree.  
  
He loved this tree. It was old and gnarled and close to dead, its worn bark black as Monty's skin. Yet, its twisted limbs reached into the sky defiantly, as if the tree were reaching for the heavens themselves in the final years of it's life. Monty settled at the topmost part of the tree's trunk, the branches around him creating a makeshift chair for the young drow.  
  
Montolio turned his pale, purple eyes to the east to better see the sun as it rose up over the tundra as he had done countless times in his past and would do again countless times in his future.  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
The blue-glowing scimitar bit deeply into his flesh, reaching for his heart. Waves of agony spread from the new wound, bringing the weapon master to his knees, his long, black fingers gripping the wicked blade. He tried to cry out, even managed to open his mouth to do so, but his voice and breath were frozen in his paralyzed lungs and constricting throat.  
  
Dantrag let out a howl of pain and fury and pitched forward in his sleep only to be caught and forced back down on his back by waiting hands.  
  
" He lives," a familiar voice remarked. Dantrag forced himself to take several deep breaths. He tried to calm himself. He didn't want to see Triel now, not when he was so sure he was dying.  
  
" So it would seem," another familiar voice added. Dantrag groaned at the recognition of Gromph's voice.  
  
" I was beginning to wonder if you would ever awaken, dear Dantrag," Triel purred, " you screamed often in your long sleep." Finally, Dantrag opened his eyes and faced his two siblings. " What did you dream that made you cry so, brother?" Triel was amused, Dantrag could hear it in her voice and see it in her face, she was mocking him.  
  
Dantrag tried to sit up again, but a sharp sting in his ribs put him down on his back almost instantly. His hand went to his chest, which was tightly bandaged.  
  
" Nearly thirty years and still that wound has not healed," Gromph remarked.  
  
" Thirty years!" Dantrag hurled himself up, and promptly doubled over in pain.  
  
" Lie down, Dantrag," Gromph ordered. The wizard placed his hands on his brother's shoulders and gently forced the drow back down. Dantrag obeyed only because he was in a state of utter confusion and stinging pain.  
  
" Thirty years you have slept, Dantrag," Triel confirmed, " for thirty years your screams have been the lullabies of House Baenre." Dantrag's head swam. Thirty years was not so long a time in the lifespan of a drow but to have slept for that long...  
  
" Where is Matron Baenre? I must speak with her," the confused male asked. Surely his mother could sort this out for him. Triel laughed at him.  
  
" Matron Baenre is dead, foolish male," the female taunted.  
  
" Dead," Dantrag pressed. If his mother was indeed dead, then his future seemed bleak.  
  
" Slain by the rouge Do'Urden and his allies," Gromph explained, a little more sympathetic to his brother's position. Dantrag sat up slowly and slumped forward, almost wishing that he had not awoken from his continuing nightmares. Triel now controlled the house, no doubt, and he would have no place in his sister's family. If the drow could be classified as having families.  
  
" Fear not, Dantrag Baenre," Triel's use of his noble name gave Dantrag some small measure of hope, " you have a place in House Baenre still, for the time being." Triel clapped her hands and two young, drow males entered the room. One had cold emerald eyes that studied Dantrag with reverence and contempt. He stood straight with his arms crossed over his chest and his feet slightly apart. His lengthy, stark white hair was pulled into a tight ponytail at his nape. He stood like a warrior.  
  
The other leaned with his back against the wall, one foot and his shoulder blades bracing his weight against the structure. He also had his arms crossed and his gaze on Dantrag. This one held curiosity in his bright, yellow eyes, though.  
  
" Dantrag Baenre," Triel addressed, " meet Antioch," the emerald-eyed drow inclined his head curtly, " and Zandrath," the yellow-eyed one grinned crookedly, " your new charges once you can walk again."  
  
*~*~*~*~*  
  
Bruenor's diminutive legs were hard pressed to keep up with the long, graceful strides of his companion, who seemed more to float than actually walk. The dwarf stubbornly moved his short legs faster while his thoughts tried to design a proper method of retaliation, both for the beast that had invaded his tunnels and for the elf who seemed to constantly forget that her legs were at least twice the length of his.  
  
" Can't ye slow down a bit, elf," Brunor complained when his mind failed at both tasks.  
  
The elf pulled rein on her fast gait and stood stark still in her signature pose. One leg stretched out behind her, the other straight and still, her torso twisted around so she could better see her companion, one arm encircling her ample belly, the other resting its elbow on the other arm while her long, black fingers splayed across her sharp, angular facial features. She rolled the gaze of her large, golden eyes over to Bruenor. " Slow enough for you Master Dwarf," she asked mockingly in her soft, ringing voice.  
  
" Bah," Bruenor snorted, " now I know why elves and dwarves don't mingle so well, ye elves are too stinkin' fast."  
  
" You mingle with Drizzt just fine," The she-elf countered, bringing up the drow ranger who was a dear friend to them both.  
  
" He walks at my pace," Bruenor grumbled. His remark made the elf smile all the wider as she resumed her stride, though she did take some care to shorten her step.  
  
The pair reached the entrance to the dwarven complex in fairly good time. Drizzt was there, as was Catti-brie, Bruenor's adopted daughter, Regis the halfling, grumbling about a missed meal, and a score of dwarves all arguing on what to do about the monster in the tunnels.  
  
Drizzt, however, was not participating in the meeting. He was speaking to the drow girl who was having difficulty explaining herself while holding her jaw. Drizzt didn't seem too concerned that Binx was hurt, she had hurt herself often when she was very young, the ranger was more curious as to how Binx had come by the injury.  
  
" Sordath punched me," Binx finally confessed. Drizzt raised an eyebrow.  
  
" What did you do to provoke him into punching you," he asked dryly, knowing well that Sordath would not have hit Binx if there wasn't a reason. Binx hung her head in shame.  
  
" I tripped him in our race," she admitted. Drizzt sighed and shook his head. Bruenor took that movement to mean that the drow was done scolding his ward.  
  
" Got some trouble below, elf," the dwarf informed.  
  
" And some more up here too," Drizzt sighed.  
  
" I'm sorry, Father," Binx apologized, lifting her head slightly.  
  
" When your brother gets back you apologized to him too," Drizzt charged, looking Binx in the eye sternly. Binx nodded and scampered off.  
  
" Kids fighting again," Bruenor asked, sympathetic of Drizzt's predicament, having raised children himself.  
  
" I should have stopped at one," Drizzt sighed defeatedly. Both of them knew that wasn't true. Drizzt loved his children, enough that he could raise a slew of the little buggers and still have enough time and love for another one. Drizzt would not have been content with just one.  
  
" You can stop at any number," Bruenor reminded.  
  
" I can only hope I'm doing this father thing right," Drizzt countered, knowing that as soon as his current three children left home, he would miss them terribly and likely get another group in compensation for the ones that had moved on.  
  
" You've got help you know," Bruenor added, banging his chest proudly, " and I got experience with girls."  
  
" Elves raised by dwarves," Drizzt grinned, " that will be an outrage to the elven communities."  
  
" Ah they don't care what you dark elves are doing with your whelps," Bruenor passed.  
  
" I suppose not," Drizzt admitted, " still, dwarvish speaking elves would be amusing to see."  
  
" I see one every day that you're in," Bruenor nudged the drow in the ribs. Drizzt smiled at the dwarf's remark and clapped the surly creature on the shoulder.  
  
" So what's this meeting all about," the drow tried to change the subject but Bruenor wasn't done having his fun.  
  
" Nessa's lookin' plump, ya know," the dwarf remarked slyly.  
  
" Is she now," Drizzt retorted, feigning surprise, " I though we were done with this batch."  
  
" Apparently, this one's starting another," Bruenor suggested, " I gotta say, elf, you had me worried."  
  
" How so," Drizzt asked, deciding to play along for a while.  
  
" Nineteen years of a skinny Nessa was starting to make me think that you'd lost your touch," the dwarf mused. Drizzt sighed again, he seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.  
  
" I heard that, Bruenor Battlehammer," the elf who had accompanied the dwarf to the complex remarked, " are you saying that I'm fat?"  
  
" Oh, now you've done it," Drizzt teased, afterwards dodging a mock blow from Bruenor and spinning toward his wife.  
  
" And you played along, you little scoundrel," Nessa scolded Drizzt, who merely grinned crookedly and shrugged. Nessa smiled and shook her head, tossing her long white hair as she did so, " you males are terrible."  
  
" How much did you hear," Drizzt asked, knowing that Nessa had probably overheard most, if not all, of his conversation with the dwarf.  
  
" Enough," the sly female remarked with a devastating grin. She caught Drizzt's chin with her slender hand and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before striding over to join the dwarves. Drizzt calmed considerably, and motioned for Bruenor to join him and the others at the meeting.  
  
To be continued... 


	3. 2 Remnants

Disclaimer : (paces impatiently) Oh I hate doing this. (a letter falls through the mail slot) Oh a letter. (grabs the letter, tears it open and reads it out loud) "Dear Miss Semdai, we regret to inform you that your request to own the Forgotten Realms characters has been denied." (wads the letter up and throws it over her shoulder) Damn, back to the drawing board. (leaves)  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Two - Remnants  
  
Lazuli ran the brush through her jet-black hair, then tossed her head, sending the ebony waves cascading down her back.  
  
" You remind me of your father so vividly," Jarlaxle remarked from the doorway, " you have his eyes and hair, but I see your mother's lovely frame and her angular eye-shape." Lazuli turned her head to regard the intruder.  
  
" Who asked for your opinion," she asked coldly, although she was truly glad for the drow's company. Jarlaxle read her like an open book.  
  
" And you have your father's acidic mood," he added in a sweet tone as he seated himself comfortably on her bed. Lazuli smiled and went back to brushing her hair, using her mirror to watch Jarlaxle as she spoke.  
  
" What was my mother like," she asked. Jarlaxle leaned against the wall and locked his fingers behind his bald head.  
  
" She was beautiful, Lazuli, there are no other adequate words to describe her," the drow recounted, " physically at least."  
  
" What did she look like?" Lazuli had finished brushing her hair and was sitting backwards in her seat facing Jarlaxle with her arms crossed over the back of her chair, waiting for him to continue.  
  
" She was tall, almost taller than Entreri," the mercenary continued, " her hair was a silvery color and very wavy, like yours is. She was half elvin, you know," Lazuli quirked an eyebrow, "We knew she had elvish blood because she had elf eyes, big and slanted and colored the most remarkable shade of yellow, but we never could tell if it was surface or drow elf, she was caring and respectable but had the most vile temper. Lovely singing voice, though."  
  
" She sounds very beautiful," the young assassin pictured.  
  
" She was," Jarlaxle assure, " she could put a real, genuine smile on even Entreri's face. And she cared about things, like animals. She loved animals, usually had one with her at all times. Oh, she was gifted wen it came to animals." Jarlaxle would have gone on to recount how Lazuli's mother had once wreaked havoc on a market place by charming a flock of pigeons into bombing the shoppers, but he was interrupted by a nasty fit of coughing.  
  
" Jarlaxle," Lazuli grew concerned when the dark elf continued to choke as if he had something in his throat that he couldn't quite cough up, " are you all right?" Jarlaxle couldn't respond for he was doubled over and shaking as the fit subsided. For a fleeting moment, Lazuli wondered if the drow was acting, but she dismissed that notion when Jarlaxle straightened and leaned back against the wall, moisture rimmed his eyes and made them glint in the light. The drow's chest heaved as if trying to regain lost breath.  
  
" Just a bad cold," Jarlaxle insisted breathlessly, " it will pass." Lazuli wasn't so sure. She rose from her seat and strode over to Jarlaxle.  
  
" Hold still," she instructed, sitting down next to him on the bed. The young assassin pressed her ear against the drow's chest and listened to the furious and erratic beats of his heart. There was no rhythm to the pulse, only one desperate thump after another, as if Jarlaxle's heart was struggling just to beat. Lazuli grew very worried. Elves were generally immune to common diseases, and Jarlaxle was a pure-bred drow elf, a creature of the savage Underdark, a survivor in an unmerciful place where the weak were quickly devoured or destroyed.  
  
" You're sick," Lazuli stated, fearful for the dark elf who was, though she would never admit it, very dear to her.  
  
" It will pass," Jarlaxle repeated, taking note of Lazuli's concern and brushing one of his slender, black hands across her cheek, " don't worry about me."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Antioch worked his two scimitars in an intricate dance, both blades moving in perfect harmony with eachother. Dantrag found himself sorely missing his enchanted bracers, but he could do nothing to regain them.  
  
Unless he went along with his sister's plans of course.  
  
Metal screeched on metal as Antioch threw himself into a frenzy. Dantrag parried Antioch's blows almost methodically. It became evident to the former weapon master why Antioch had finished second in his class while his younger twin, Zandrath, had finished in first. Zandrath had no heart for the fight, no desire to master the swords he carried, he was not blinded by any passion to excel, enabling him to absorb the teachings of the masters at the Academy and bend them to his sparse purposes. He was a follower of no rules, the embodiment of patience and tranquillity. So unusual for a drow.  
  
Antioch, however, was made of passion and desire, hunger and primal rage. Possessed of the complete confidence in his skills, the young drow was very arrogant in his view. Boasting that he could beat his brother any day, but when they sparred he fell to Zandrath's unnerving calm. Always. Antioch had no patience or control. Because he was also narrow minded, he lacked originality in his style, often setting his mind on one routine and never stepping out of it, no matter what.  
  
Dantrag easily slipped his boot under Antioch's wall of steel and pulled his student's legs out from under him. Rage flared up in Antioch's emerald eyes right after the initial second of surprise as he found himself on his back with the tip of Dantrag's fine sword lightly caressing his slender throat just below his chin.  
  
" You lack originality," Dantrag stated, applying just enough extra pressure to the sword so that a slight trickle of blood ran down the length of Antioch's gullet.  
  
" You don't scare me," Antioch glare at his teacher through slitted eyes.  
  
" I am not here to scare you," Dantrag stated flatly, withdrawing his sword, " that is Lady Lolth and Matron Triel's duty. Your brother surpasses you because he is calm in all things and understands his place. You think you are better than him and it makes you weak."  
  
" I will kill him and you someday, and prove my worth to Matron Triel," Antioch promised darkly. Dantrag tried very hard not to laugh.  
  
" You are a fool," he spat, " do you think that Matron Triel cares about you? Why should she? After all you are just a male. Likely she will give you to Lolth when she finally produces a string of daughters. Zandrath will likely become Weapon Master of House Baenre, the position you so desire, and you will fall by the wayside." The words were coming easier for Dantrag now that he had accepted them.  
  
" I will bring back the hearts of a hundred surface elves to prove that I am more worthy to be our Weapon Master than my weakling brother," Antioch snarled, staring his teacher in the eye having stood up during Dantrag's short soliloquy, " I will slay the rouge Do'Urden and prove that I deserve to be the weapon master."  
  
Dantrag threw back his head and laughed, " you could slay a thousand surface elves and bring back the corpse of Drizzt Do'Urden a hundred times again and it would only expose how truly pathetic you are. If I drive this sword through your heart," Dantrag brought his sword to bear to emphasize his point, " your mother would beat me and punish me, but I would live to train Zandrath for many years to come and she would not waste a single breath in lament for your loss." Dantrag took confidence from Antioch's silence, " you could bring her the death of every being she hates but in doing so you would have to bring her your own death as well. She hates the fact that you, the oldest of her children, are male. No matter that you are skilled with your blades, you will never be more than a worthless male in her eyes."  
  
Antioch exploded into motion, his rage engulfing him fully as he attacked with all his heart, having every intention of killing his teacher. But Dantrag was laughing at him.  
  
" Killing me will not change your sex," the older drow reminded, " Triel cares nothing for me, her own brother, but she will punish you for killing one of her prized fighters." Antioch lashed at Dantrag as he tried to shut out the words. He would prove he was better. He would show his mother than he was the best. Or he would die trying.  
  
Dantrag easily parried Antioch's blows, again they were mechanical. Lashing out incredibly fast he drove his sword's pommel into Antioch's face, shattering the younger drow's nose and jabbing the sliding hilt into his left eye. Antioch howled and jumped back, dropping a scimitar and clutching his eye, from which blood was flowing freely and mingling with the same blood as it poured from his broken nose. Dantrag was on him in an instant, again pulling his feet out from under him and adding a second cut to Antioch's throat.  
  
" I will kill you someday," Antioch promised grimly, still holding his eye, " I swear you will die with my blade in your heart."  
  
" I will die however Triel commands when she finally grows weary of me," Dantrag corrected, sheathing his swords and waiting for Antioch's next remark.  
  
" You will pay for the insults you have given me this day," the hot-headed drow spat, rubbing his neck where the burning cuts still stung.  
  
" Better your pride cut than your throat," Dantrag remarked, " though it seems I have gotten better since my days with my own brothers and I have managed to cut both for you." With a smirk on his angular face, Dantrag strode from the room.  
  
" Yes, better to cut your pride than your throat," he remarked to himself once he was out of Antioch's earshot, " or your heart..." He reached inside his tunic and felt the healing scar on his chest. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that Antioch was not following him and headed for his rooms, staying alert for the young drow in the gym who would like nothing better than to put his finely made scimitar through his teacher's heart.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The ship, a sleek, powerful vessel built for speed and agility, glided swiftly through the water, the hot, southern winds full in her sails. The ship was one of a kind, built and designed by a particularly powerful pirate. Her trio of wizards, all of them masters of their craft and familiar with the workings and powers of the ocean, were enough to scare off any challenger, but just in case she carried two deadly catapults and a mighty balista, all manned by teams of highly experienced pirates.  
  
The ship's name was Crimson Fell Beast. And she was the flagship of the most powerful pirate to ever sail south of Baldur's Gate. Her captain, a foul tempered creature who was nicknamed 'Living Dead Girl' by her crews, sailed under a flag of her own design. The flag depicted a snarling, red dragon lined in swirls of blue against a black background, and it was whispered in the taverns along the Sword Coast that Living Dead Girl herself could bring down red dragons on her prey or pursuer.  
  
Crimson Fell Beast was the ruler of the southern seas even though it was only seen half as often as Living Dead Girl's other ships, all of them able vessels that the pirate had captured, renamed, and added to her own fleet, which was rumored to number great enough to challenge the armada of Calimshan. Crimson Fell Beast would be a prized capture for any pirate hunter, especially if she could be caught without excessive damage and her captain, the ever equivocal Living Dead Girl, was taken alive.  
  
Thus was the source of Sea Sprite's glee when her lookout identified the pirate flagship. If they could defeat Crimson Fell Beast and take her captain alive...  
  
It was a mixed set of feelings that Captain Deudermont felt as the Crimson Fell Beast became clearer. The flagship was almost never seen on the water by any outside her crew, and never captained by anyone other than Living Dead Girl herself. The old captain was excited at the sight, of course, but he knew the stories of the Crimson Fell Beast's crew and, even more so, her vicious captain. This would be a very difficult battle. One that might see the end of the Sea Sprite and her noble crew.  
  
What seriously bothered Deudermont was the seeming fact that Crimson Fell Beast was alone on the water. The old captain had heard many stories from survivors of the flagship's raids about sighting the deadly pirate ship alone and suddenly being flanked by two more pirate ships, the cagey Spookshow and her sister ship, the elusive Scarlet Gypsy.  
  
Any second, Deudermont expected his lookout to cry out that more ships had appeared. He didn't like the situation.  
  
Back on Crimson Fell Beast's deck, the crew was scurrying to their battle stations. Living Dead Girl, perched on the prow of the ship and communing with the ocean, had ordered for battle with the pirate hunter and they would obey their captain, so loyal and confident where they.  
  
From her perch on her flagship's prow, Living Dead Girl fell deep into her trance, reaching into the depths of the ocean for the power and guidance she knew she would need for this battle with the pirate hunter. They would not run, could not in fact. It wasn't the chance that they couldn't out- run the Sea Sprite, a feat not impossible for the pirate, it was the threat to their name. If it was whispered that Crimson Fell Beast had run from a battle, even a battle with Sea Sprite... Living Dead Girl knew she had to win or go down fighting for her ship. There could be no other outcome.  
  
But if Crimson Fell Beast did defeat Sea Sprite, what would they do with her? The prospects and promises of adding Sea Sprite to her fleet were tantalizing for the pirate leader. With Sea Sprite sailing under her colors, Seivriel Versail, the Living Dead Girl, would know respect from every port along the Sword Coast, even mighty Waterdeep would speak her name with fear. Perhaps she could extend her arm into the waters north of Baldur's Gate, the realm of her rival, Sheila Kree.  
  
But if Seivriel claimed Sea Sprite as her own, she would forever have to beware the retribution of Waterdeep. The lords of the City of Splendors would not let their prized pirate hunter go without a fight. She would never be able to dock the ship, even under a different name, anywhere except for her own secret port and possibly the pirate cities of the south waters. The ship, like her own, was one of a kind and too easily recognized. She turned to the sea for guidance.  
  
The sea would not let her down, she knew. She had been born and raised on the rolling ocean waves. Born on the brink of the fire and water signs, Seivriel had learned long ago how to tap into the powers of fire and water. The sea would tell her what to do and she could trust in the strength of her pyrotic abilities. She would face the pirate hunter.  
  
Crimson Fell Beast readied her weapons and her three wizards waited for their captain's signal. They waited for Living Dead Girl to strike the sounds of battle and let loose her hounds.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
" Thing was huge," Bruenor recounted his encounter with the invader of the tunnels, " seven legs, two arms, tough skin." If drow skin could pale, Drizzt's did.  
  
" The upper body," he demanded, " was it humanoid, with black skin?" Bruenor thought for a moment.  
  
" Yeah," he decided, " yeah it was." Drizzt and Nessa both fell back in their chairs, shocked and terrified expressions played out over their sharp features.  
  
" Drider," they said together.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Deudermont was not surprised when the pirate flagship turned about to face the Sea Sprite. The old captain and the pirate leader were cut of similar material and they both knew it, though the Sea Sprite had never before faced of Crimson Fell Beast's underships, let alone the flagship herself. This fight would be a clash of titans.  
  
" She wants to fight," Robillard, Sea Sprite's wizard, remarked from Deudermont's side.  
  
" She HAS to fight," the old captain corrected, " if she runs, Crimson Fell Beast and her underships will loose much of the respect they have earned in these waters."  
  
" Do you think Living Dead Girl is there," Robillard questioned, not taking his eyes off the magnificent ship before them, bravely flying their tell- tale flag.  
  
" She is there, but we will not get her," Deudermont replied. He knew that the pirate leader would not allow herself to be taken.  
  
" Of course we will get her," Robillard balked, " you said yourself that she will not run."  
  
" She will not let us take her alive," Deudermont specified, " she will throw herself upon her own blades before she will allow herself to be taken, and likely her crew will torch the ship and follow her into death if they loose this fight."  
  
" And why would her crew kill themselves beside her," Robillard asked, not believing that pirates could be honorable or loyal.  
  
" Because their captain will kill them herself if they don't," Deudermont replied simply, turning to face his wizard and friend, " this will be the hardest fight we have ever fought, my friend."  
  
" We will prevail, Captain," Robillard assured, facing his friend.  
  
" I hope you are right," Deudermont sighed. The old captain gave the order to prepare for battle. Then he heard the music.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Nessa had seen many driders during the years when she lived in Menzoberranzan, the city of her and Drizzt's birth. It was the ultimate punishment in drow society to become a drider. Usually the creatures were kept as slaves to their masters, the fact that one was wandering around the dwarven tunnels apparently alone was more than a little unnerving to the drow female.  
  
Drizzt was equally perplexed about the situation and more than a little shaken. His own brother, after all, had suffered the punishment of becoming a drider.  
  
The two drow, along with Catti-brie, Bruenor, and a score of dwarves, made all haste down the tunnels to the area where a group of dwarves had the drider cornered.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Haunting, harrowing notes stretched to their very longest floated out across the water, making the surface tremble and writhe as if living creatures were trying to escape it.  
  
" Hear our song and know your doom," the notes cried in tormenting voices, " Watch us as we veil the moon. Listen as we kill your light. You cannot beat us in this fight." The voices exploded into an eerie song in a strange tongue that, though none aboard the Sea Sprite knew the words, rang out as a herald of doom.  
  
The song became louder as Sea Sprite neared Crimson Fell Beast for the pirate crew was singing in tune with the seductive song. They didn't know the words anymore than the Sea Sprite's crew did but they had been sailing with Living Dead Girl long enough to memorize the sounds.  
  
Seivriel, however, knew the words and their meaning. She twisted and spun and writhed in her erotic dance, the horrifying music pouring from the demonic violin in her hands as she played it with faultless perfection. Her crew scampered away to give her the room she would need.  
  
' You play well,' a voice in her head complimented.  
  
' I have held you for many years,' she replied.  
  
Robillard gasped at the sight of the pirate, twisting and turning wildly yet playing her violin with unworldly skill. Never before had he seen such awful magic as the like that surrounded that pirate woman as she danced to the rhythm of her sentient instrument.  
  
' Faster, faster,' the violin urged. The instrument so wanted this, the few moments when Seivriel, one of the greatest wielders the it had ever known, would play and dance to the song they had devised together.  
  
' Patience,' the pirate ordered the violin, slowing the notes to bring on another of the demonic violin's tricks.  
  
" Bring her down!" Deudermont shouted, " Kill the one with the violin! Kill her!" A dozen archers took aim and fired at the violinist. Not a single one struck her. Each arrow burst into flame as it neared her and fell harmlessly into the water below. She stopped dancing and the notes became even slower, ringing the ears of those close to the pirate. Her eerie, black eyes glimmered with wicked glee.  
  
" Did you think you could kill me so easily, Captain Deudermont of the Sea Sprite," she yelled over the quieting notes, " the spirits of the ocean and the Song of Mizutatsu are my guides and guardians! How could you ever think that you could defeat them?" She screeched the last note of the song and the water around the Sea Sprite exploded.  
  
' Our song has come to fruition,' Mizutatsu cheered, exhilarated that it had been played.  
  
' We are powerful, you and I,' Seivriel complimented, lowering the sentient instrument from her chin, ' the hounds will ready us for boarding.'  
  
' Where are the others,' Mizutatsu asked.  
  
' They will be ready,' Seivriel assured her violin as she strapped it to her belt.  
  
" Nauticals," Robillard cried when he recognized the creatures that swarmed across the Sea Sprite's deck. Huge, blue-furred, dog-like monsters with long, whipping, snake-like tails ending in strong fins, and powerful jaws with rows of serrated teeth they were. Standing easily as tall as a man and weighing around one hundred and fifty pounds, the Nauticals desecrated the weaponry of the brave Sea Sprite. Normally the water hounds would have gone for the crew, but Seivriel had ordered that they only kill if it was necessary.  
  
" She is playing with us," Deudermont realized as he saw a pair of Nauticals take out his balista, and the crew member who tried to fend them off. Suddenly, the water hounds, now with nothing left to destroy, leapt from the ship and into the ocean, except for the last one, who, with a tremendous leap, made it back to Crimson Fell Beast to stand beside the pirate with the violin.  
  
" What are they doing," Robillard cried when he reached Deudermont's side, " why aren't they attacking?" Deudermont pointed to the water behind and to the sides of their position, showing Robillard the three ships flanking them, all of them flying the flag of Living Dead Girl.  
  
" Because they are teasing us," the old captain stated. The four pirate ships had Sea Sprite completely boxed in. They were so close that Deudermont and Robillard could clearly read the names on their prows. Behind them was Spookshow, a ship known to appear out of nowhere to attack her victims. To their left, Scarlet Gypsy, a vessel known to disappear leaving only bloody water in her wake. On the right rested Demon Pinion, the most commonly seen of all the fleet's ships and easily one of the most ruthless. They were trapped  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Two dozen dwarves had he drider flanked on all sides by waiting axes. The abomination, missing one of its eight legs and bearing several bad scars on its hard exoskeleton, was more confused than it had been in a long time. Had its mutated and bloated face been capable of showing emotion it would have shown panic.  
  
" Ugly thing ain't it," Bruenor remarked.  
  
" And sad," Nessa added, " to think that this drider was once a drow elf." Drizzt felt a similar feeling.  
  
" Amazing," came a whisper from the shadows, which Drizzt and Nessa instantly recognized. With a flick of two drow wrists, the three young Do'Urdens were lined with faerie fire and completely visible.  
  
" And what are you three doing down here," Drizzt asked sternly. The trio hung their heads in submission.  
  
" We wanted to come," Sordath spoke up after a long moment had passed. Drizzt shook his head in defeat.  
  
" Well you're here now you might as well stay," he conceded, turning away, his children sighed with relief but where cut short as he whirled back on them and added, " but if I catch you sneaking around where you're not allowed to be again there will be some sorry, little drow in these tunnels."  
  
The trio were skeptic about their father's threat. He had never physically beat them, but rather hounded them with statements of disappointment that made them all prefer that he had hit them. Their mother, however, had struck them plenty of times, though only when they had truly deserved it. They decided they would be careful.  
  
The drider drew the attention back on itself by lashing out at one of the flanking dwarves. The dwarf struck the drider's arm, tearing a wide gash across the black flesh. The abomination howled and backed away.  
  
" Might as well put the thing out of its misery," Catti-brie resolved, taking aim at the drider's chest with her deadly bow, Taulmaril. Drizzt's hand shot out and snatched the arrow from the bow before Catti-brie could fire.  
  
" What're ye thinking, elf," Bruenor demanded.  
  
" Hold for a moment," Drizzt ordered, his eyes locked on the drider and something he had seen in the creature's face. Not waiting for a reply, the drow stepped into the ring of dwarves, who parted to admit him. Drizzt stared hard at the drider, somehow it seemed so familiar to him. He held out his hand tentatively. Nessa fell into the trance of spellcasting.  
  
" Dinin?" The drider stopped moving at the sound of Drizzt's voice and stared hard the drow before it. Its twin axes clanged to the floor. A guttural sound came from its throat, as if it were trying to speak.  
  
" Drizzt," the drider managed to say. Drizzt's heart skipped a beat.  
  
" Is that you, my brother," he asked in the drow tongue.  
  
" Stand back, Drizzt," Nessa ordered. Drizzt turned back to see the drow female glowing with bolts of silvery, psychic energy. On instinct, Drizzt leapt to the side as Nessa loosed the bolts at the drider.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
" What do you say, Captain Deudermont," The violin wielding pirate teased, " may we board and inspect your lovely ship?" Deudermont knew that if he refused, the pirates would destroy his ship and slaughter his crew, perhaps he could negotiate with them.  
  
" If I can have your word that you will not harm my crew until I have had a chance to speak with you," Deudermont dared to request. The pirate smiled and patted the Nautical at her side.  
  
" We have an accord, Captain Deudermont," she agreed. As if on cue, four planks dropped onto Sea Sprite's deck in unison. Three, elegantly dressed, pirates boarded from the surrounding ships, each one escorted by a pair of wizards. The trio, obviously the captains of the other ships, strode to the upper deck to stand before Deudermont and Robillard, who was resisting the urge to strike down the three pirates who were eyeing the Sea Sprite with glee. Lastly, came the violin wielder, a trio of wizards at her back and the Nautical at her side. She glided across the deck, Deudermont's crew lurching back to get out of her way.  
  
" Greetings," Deudermont saluted, bowing low to the violin wielder as she ascended to the upper deck to stand with her fellows.  
  
" Well met, Captain Deudermont," she returned, also bowing, " the Sword Coast authorities know me as Living Dead Girl, and my fellow pirates know me as Commodore Dead Girl, but you may call me Seivriel Versail." Deudermont realized that the pirate had just shown him a great deal of respect in telling him her real name so he bowed low again. Seivriel smiled, showing pointed eye-teeth and stroking the violin hanging at her side as if it were a favored pet.  
  
' He will ry to bargain,' the instrument warned.  
  
" Is there something I might offer you, Lady Seivriel Versail, that might appease you into allowing my crew to live," Deudermont questioned, taking great care in his word choice.  
  
' I told you,' Mizutatsu insisted.  
  
" If I knew what you had to offer then I could answer that question, Captain," Seivriel replied simply, ignoring the voice of the violin. Her fellows snickered quietly, but a glare from their leader quickly shut them up.  
  
" I will turn over myself and the Sea Sprite in exchange for the safe return of my crew to Baldur's Gate," Deudermont offered. The pirate captain of Spookshow, a scrawny, dark skinned, whisp of a girl with darting, brown eyes and pinned up, black hair, snorted and flicked her left ear. Demon Pinion's captain, a tanned, well muscled man of about twenty, brushed his index finger vertically over the bridge of his nose. Scarlet Gypsy's captain, a woman with black eyes and long red hair, combined her middle and index finger and passed the two fingers over her right eye.  
  
" A puzzle," Seivriel mused, " one captain says 'take it,' one says 'deny it,' and the last says 'ask for more.'" Robillard scowled, Seivriel was playing with them. He had read her thoughts and discovered that she was going to kill the Sea Sprite's crew and captain, though it remained unclear as to what she would do with the actual ship.  
  
Deudermont started to feel light-headed, then he felt himself lifting and his vision went black.  
  
To the pirates and their wizards, Deudermont seemed to disappear into thin air. The three captains of the flanking ships cried out in rage. Seivriel was much calmer as she strode up to Robillard, her face only inches from his. Deudermont's crew cheered, glad that their captain was safe even if they were not.  
  
" You were very brave to do that, Wizard Robillard," she stated, " and very arrogant to think that you could read my thoughts so easily without my knowing." Robillard gulped but held his ground, he couldn't tell if Seivriel was angry or amused.  
  
" Keel haul the dog, Commodore Dead Girl," Demon Pinion's captain yelled. Scarlet Gypsy's captain put two fingers over her lips and flicked them from left to right. Several of the wizards flicked their right ears at her suggestion, which to them was a sign meaning, 'dead men tell no tales.' Seivriel was unfazed by the opinion's of her underlings.  
  
" I wish you hadn't done that, Wizard," she said calmly, " now I will have to punish you." Robillard narrowed his eyes and stared hard at her.  
  
" Do your worst," he dared, " Bitch of the deep." Just as Robillard finished the insult, Seivriel spun around and launched a dagger at the group of crewmen. One fell dead a second later, the dagger buried to the hilt in his eye. So quick and clean was the blow that the man simply fell, without a sound. Seivriel turned back to face Robillard, a nasty grin on her angular face.  
  
" Now look what you made me do," she whined in a false tone. Her captains and wizards all snickered at the display. The pirate leader didn't silence them this time. " Care to insult me again?" she asked sweetly, it made Robillard sick.  
  
" Play him a lullaby, Commodore," the captain of Spookshow proposed, her overly large eyes gleaming with excitement. Seivriel grinned.  
  
" How about it, Wizard," she asked, " shall we keep up this game," she spun and took down another of Deudermont's crew with a dagger throw to emphasis her point, " or do you want a lullaby?" Robillard paused. He didn't want to watch the crew die, as he knew they would, but he was afraid of what the 'Lullaby' was. Seivriel killed another crewman for good measure, or to satisfy her impatience.  
  
" Lullaby," Robillard declared loudly. A great cheer went up from the pirate ships. The Nautical even joined in with a watery howl. Mizutatsu cheered gleefully in Seivriel's head. Everyone who sailed with the Living Dead Girl knew of The Lullaby and its horrors. Lullaby was Seivriel's ultimate punishment and the worst torture she could perform. And no one performed it better than Seivriel Versail, after all, this was the practice that earned her the name Living Dead Girl.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The psychic bolts struck the drider in the chest. The creature howled as the energy twisted around it like electricity. It swayed dangerously for several seconds, scattering the dwarves, before toppling onto its side and writhing as if in terrible pain.  
  
A sickening popping sound echoed as the drider's body twisted and molded. Seven legs became two, bloated flesh smoothed itself, sparks of life flickered in hollow eyes. The transformation from drow to drider reversed. Binx and Sordath had to turn their heads from the sight. Monty watched in horror and fascination.  
  
A motionless, drow body lay curled up on the ground where once a drider had stood. Drizzt dropped to his knees beside the unmoving figure.  
  
" Dinin," he tried, gently shaking the unmoving dark elf, who managed to open his weary eyes.  
  
" Drizzt," Dinin reached up to touch his brother's cheek, " it is you." He spoke slowly, breathlessly, in the drow tongue. Drizzt took his brother's hand and wrapped him in a loving embrace, pulling him up into a sitting position as he did so.  
  
" Yes, my brother," he reassured, speaking the drow tongue so that Dinin would understand him, " it is so good to see you again as you should be." Dinin was exhausted from his time as a drider and perfectly content to rest where he was, safe in his brother's arms. The tired drow let his head rest against Drizzt's chest, let the rhythmic beats of his brother's heart lull him to sleep.  
  
" You know him," Catti-brie asked, kneeling down in front of the pair and making sure to keep her eyes from roving down too far.  
  
" His name is Dinin," Drizzt explained, brushing a strand of long, white hair, away from Dinin's sleeping face.  
  
" Friend o' yours," Bruenor asked, readying his axe just in case.  
  
" My brother," Drizzt specified, " or rather half-brother. We had the same mother, but different fathers." Bruenor lowered his axe immediately, a smile brightening his ruddy face.  
  
" Seems you've got kin left in the world yet, elf," the dwarf noted.  
  
" So it seems," Drizzt agreed, studying his brother's face. Dinin moaned and stirred in his sleep. He was thinner than Drizzt remembered, his skin seeming to hang off his bones, which were clearly visible in many places, particularity his ribs, and his eyes seemed puffy from endless, sleepless nights.  
  
Nessa came over and offered Drizzt a cloak, which was promptly wrapped around Dinin (much to the relief of Catti-brie). Drizzt's three children drifted over as well, anxious to see Dinin.  
  
" Kids," Drizzt began, using the term he always used when addressing all three of his offspring at the same time, " this is your uncle, Dinin."  
  
Dinin remained fast asleep in Drizzt's arms...  
  
AN: Well that's it for this chapter. Seems to go by so fast even though when I look at the bottom of the document it says 14 pages. Oh well, hope you all enjoyed and will read the next chapter. Must go seek nutrition before I collapse. 


	4. 3 History

Disclaimer : (checking e-mail) Let's see... Ooh! A reply from the Forgotten Realms office! (opens the e-mail and reads it out loud) "Dear Miss Semdai, we regret to inform you that your request to own Forgotten Realms has been denied, again." (sighs) Oh well, at least I've still got all the pirates of Seivriel's band, (counts on her fingers) The whole 'Aruine history' thing, the Nauticals, the Night Eyes... (fades out)  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Three : History  
  
Robillard watched the sun go down, his heart sinking with the celestial body. He was tied to the Sea Sprite's central mast, had been since agreeing on Seivriel's 'lullaby.' The pirate leader herself had dismissed her last Nautical and retreated to her own ship. The other captains had parted Sea Sprite's crew into three groups and imprisoned them aboard their own vessels. Robillard had been tied up then and three pirate wizards, one from each of the ambushing ships, were set to watch him.  
  
" Haven't had a Lullaby in some time, have we, Smedley," the wizard from Spookshow remarked, turning to the wizard next to him.  
  
" Sure haven't, Kaelic," the one called Smedley agreed.  
  
" Ain't run into someone with the guts for one," added Metellus, the wizard from Demon Pinion.  
  
" What is this Lullaby," Robillard ventured, wanting to get a feeling for what he was going to face.  
  
" I take back what I said about guts," Metellus snickered, " all we have to find is someone dumb enough." The other two pirate wizards had a good at Metellus's jest.  
  
" Ain't ye heared the stories," Kaelic taunted, cocking his head at Robillard, who shook his head.  
  
" You saw that violin o' hers, right," Smedley began. Robillard nodded.  
  
" That violin's got a soul of its own," Metellus joined in, " it was made by the Aruine in the ancient days of the elves." Robillard had to think for a moment before he remembered the Aruine. The oldest and wisest of the elven races, the Aruine were powerful magicians and extraordinary summoners. The race was wiped out in the ancient times and most of their traces had been lost.  
  
" The thing was made with the power to control water and fire as well as creatures of those elements," Kaelic resumed control of the tale, " we've seen it call monsters that would send those Nauticals running away with their tales firmly between their legs."  
  
" Lullaby is the most powerful spell that violin can produce," Smedley interjected, moving his arms and hands mystically to emphasis his remark.  
  
" A least the most powerful that we've ever seen it do," Metellus added slyly. The trio shared a snicker. Robillard was no longer listening, but lost in thought.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She was confident in her long stride, daring any of the Night Eyes, a band of vicious rogues that envied her position, to make a move for her. They would not, she knew. They would not invoke the wrath of Artemis Entreri by striking down his daughter. Though it was rumored that Entreri, now well along in years, was slipping in his craft, his daughter was quick to take up his name and his reputation. The Night Eyes would leave her alone, at least for now. Nor would she seek them out, yet, she had other, more pressing, business this night.  
  
Lazuli moved silently down Paradise Avenue, which was deserted, having borrowed Jarlaxle's enchanted boots (without permission but with every intention of returning them later) for the occasion. Her cape flared out behind her as she glided noiselessly into a shadowy alley where she would find the messenger.  
  
A scant sound in the deepest portion of the shadows caught Lazuli's hearing, which was greatly enhanced by the magical earring hanging from her left ear.  
  
" You are alone," a soft, melodic voice whispered in the tongue of the dark elves, a language well known to Lazuli.  
  
" Alone as a Lolth forsaken spider," the young assassin added in the drow tongue, carefully deepening her voice to make it sound less feminine, though she didn't expect to fool the messenger.  
  
" You are late," the informant stated, switching to the Common Tongue, which he wasn't very fluent in but Lazuli understood him well enough.  
  
" I had to appropriate the proper attire," Lazuli offered, which wasn't a full lie considering how long it had taken to 'borrow' Jarlaxle's boots.  
  
" And learn the proper passwords," the stranger snorted, " I was told to expect Entreri and you are not him."  
  
" Is not one Entreri as good as the next," Lazuli had wanted to wait for the drow messenger to come out of the shadows before she would reveal herself fully, but she could tell that he probably would not come out even if she striped for him, " Lazuli Entreri has come out this night to meet you, Kimmuriel Oblodra of Bregan D'aerthe." Lazuli bowed low.  
  
" Another Entreri," Kimmuriel, intrigued by Lazuli's performance, moved from the shadows and into the girl's sight. Lazuli had seen many drow in her life and Kimmuriel wasn't much different. He was taller than her by a few inches with ruby red eyes, almost gaunt features, and stark white hair. " Any relation to Artemis Entreri," he asked, circling her like a great, black vulture, " Sister? Cousin?"  
  
" Daughter," Lazuli corrected, " if you must know."  
  
" Daughter?" Kimmuriel repeated skeptically, " yes, I see the resemblance. His eyes. His hair color. Jarlaxle spoke of a young girl he had grown rather fond of when I saw him last."  
  
" Did he," Lazuli asked coldly, not appreciating the way Kimmuriel seemed to be measuring her.  
  
" He did," Kimmuriel confirmed, stopping in front of her, " said he'd found a girl of mixed blood that could have conquered Menzoberranzan had she been born a drow." Lazuli was a little perturbed at the remark but did well in hiding it, and in pushing Kimmuriel's mind probe out of her head and sending the psionicist reeling.  
  
" Jarlaxle wants to know why you insisted on a meeting," Lazuli stated when Kimmuriel regained his dignity.  
  
" A strange disease is killing the drow of Menzoberranzan at alarming rates," Kimmuriel said coldly, not happy about having one of his one spells manipulated and turned back on him, " the priestesses call it Aruine Abitus." Lazuli knew those words, in the old elvish tongue they meant 'spirit death.'  
  
" Is there a cure," she asked.  
  
" None that we can find," Kimmuriel replied. Lazuli did well to hide her dismay, though her hopes were effectively shattered by the psionicist's news. " Why did Jarlaxle send a colnbluth to meet me?" Kimmuriel would have liked to call Lazuli much more than simply a non-drow, but her display with the probe made him reconsider.  
  
" Jarlaxle was too sick to leave his abode this night," Lazuli stated flatly.  
  
" Is it serious," Kimmuriel demanded, slightly worried for Jarlaxle's health.  
  
" He says it is a bad cold and nothing more," Lazuli assured although she and Kimmuriel both knew that it was more than that.  
  
" Abban del a drow?" Kimmuriel's question, which translated to 'are you an ally of the drow?' in the Common Tongue, confused Lazuli at first, but she caught on quickly.  
  
" Abbil del Jarlaxle," she corrected, stating that she was merely a friend of Jarlaxle.  
  
" Sargtlin," Kimmuriel inquired, indicating the sabers that hung at Lazuli's sides.  
  
" Teigo Sargtlin," Lazuli corrected, naming herself as an assassin or shadow warrior, rather than simply a warrior.  
  
" Bol Teigo Sargtlin," Kimmuriel remarked, calling Lazuli a 'mysterious assassin.' Lazuli bowed at the subtle compliment. " Our business is concluded," the psionicist stated as he melted back into the shadows, " I will offer you some free advice, daughter of Artemis Entreri, Quenshin ful biazz coppon quangolth cree, a drow." Then he was gone.  
  
Lazuli had much to think about on her way home. Kimmuriel respected her, she could tell that much, and that was a good thing considering that he commanded Bregan D'aerthe in Jarlaxle's absence. But he was also warning her to beware. His last statement, an old saying among the drow that meant, 'doomed are those who believe they understand the designs of the drow,' was meant to remind her that, though she was skilled, she could never equal a drow.  
  
Lazuli suddenly felt very small and helpless, dark elves had a way of making her feel so. She wanted to go home and report to her father. Maybe Jarlaxle would be better when she got there? She wanted to see him again. After all, she might only have a short amount of time left with him if the words of Kimmuriel Oblodra were to be believed.  
  
Lazuli ran the rest of the way home and the Night Eyes watched her every move.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Dinin's warrior instincts alerted him immediately to the presence of the intruder. He was awake and ready, though unarmed and naked from the waist up. The intruder was a young drow female about the same size as Dinin with large, yellow-orange eyes and wavy, white hair hanging halfway down her back.  
  
" Who are you," Dinin demanded, using Deep Drow, the only language he knew.  
  
" I was sent to check on you," the drow female replied in the same tongue, holding up her hands and crossing them over her chest, an Underdark sign for peace. Dinin calmed somewhat.  
  
" Who sent you," he asked, managing to sit up. The female found it hard to take her eyes off him. He was thin and his bones protruded in places, but he was well built as well, his graceful body showing smooth, rippling muscles.  
  
" Drizzt sent me," she stated, quickly averting her eyes.  
  
" Take me to him," Dinin insisted, standing shakily.  
  
" You might want to put on a shirt first," the female giggled. Dinin remembered that he was half naked and hastily pulled on the loose tunic Drizzt had left for him. " Follow me," the drow girl directed and she strode from the room. Dinin followed silently.  
  
Several dwarves greeted the drow girl as they passed the pair. One trio of dwarves even followed them closely for a time, talking intently with the female in a language Dinin didn't understand. They reached what appeared to be a throne room of some kind. A squat, red-bearded dwarf sat back in a lavish chair at the end of the long room. At his right were several dwarves all running to and fro as he barked orders to them. On the left stood Drizzt, a red-haired woman, and a very tall, blond man, all of them engaged in a conversation with the dwarf.  
  
" Well look elf," the dwarf on the throne remarked when he saw Dinin, " our guest is awake and about already." The room fell quiet as its occupants all stopped to regard Dinin, whose eyes kept darting around the room nervously.  
  
" Did you sleep well, Dinin," Drizzt asked in the drow tongue, stepping out to meet his brother.  
  
" Well enough," Dinin replied, " do you know all these dwarves?"  
  
" All of them are friends," Drizzt assured, clasping Dinin's shoulder, " they won't threaten you." Dinin relaxed a little. " They might pester you to madness for stories though," Drizzt warned with a grin on his face. Dinin managed a soft chuckle at Drizzt's joke.  
  
" You seem happy here," he remarked.  
  
" I am," Drizzt confirmed, " I have friends who accept me despite my race, and a growing family," he paused to smile at the drow girl, " of which I see you have met one." Dinin also looked at the young drow. " This is my daughter, Binx," Drizzt introduced. Binx grinned and bowed to Dinin, who was more than a little surprised to learn that he was an uncle.  
  
" I hate it when you talk and I can't understand what yer saying," the red- bearded dwarf growled from Drizzt's left. The dwarf having rose from his seat and joined the conversing drow. " Ye teach yer kids these exotic languages so ye can talk about me, I think," the dwarf accused.  
  
" Where are my manners," Drizzt exclaimed in Common, " Bruenor, I think I introduced you to Dinin in the tunnels?"  
  
" Yeah ye did," Bruenor snorted waving his hand.  
  
" Dinin," Drizzt reverted back to Deep Drow, " this is King Bruenor Battlehammer." He indicated the red-bearded dwarf and motioned for the other two he had been speaking with to join them. He put a hand on the blond man's shoulder. " This is Wulfgar," the ranger introduced.  
  
Wulfgar studied the drow before him. He seemed small to the barbarian, but Wulfgar remembered that this was Drizzt's brother and likely had many of his abilities. The barbarian smiled at Dinin and inclined his head.  
  
" And this is Catti-brie," Drizzt notified, taking the woman's hand. Catti- brie looked Dinin up and down, comparing him to Drizzt. In the end she too inclined her head to the cagey drow.  
  
" You weren't going to forget me, were you," a new voice questioned playfully in the drow language. Drizzt grinned as Nessa strode in with Sordath and Monty not far behind.  
  
" Of course not," Drizzt assured feigning shock, " Dinin, this is my wife, Nessa, and my two sons, Sordath and Montolio." Each drow bowed at the mention of their name.  
  
" I see you've been doing all right for yourself, little brother," Dinin remarked slyly, giving Drizzt a playful nudge in the ribs.  
  
" What'd he say," Bruenor demanded when Drizzt laughed at Dinin's comment.  
  
" He says, 'I see you've been doing all right for yourself,'" Drizzt translated.  
  
" I'm thinking I like this elf already," Bruenor chuckled. Drizzt couldn't help but laugh.  
  
" What," Dinin demanded, thinking that they were making fun of him.  
  
" Bruenor says he likes you already," Drizzt relayed. Dinin relaxed, thinking that he might just be able to fit in here with his brother.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Jarlaxle eased himself into the chair opposite Entreri. The dark elf's eyelids drooped with fatigue.  
  
" What's wrong," Entreri demanded, locking his gray eyes on Jarlaxle.  
  
" A simple cold and nothing more," the drow insisted, waving his hand, which seemed thinner than normal to the ever watchful assassin.  
  
" A simple cold has brought Kimmuriel Oblodra to the surface to inquire about your health," Entreri asked skeptically. Jarlaxle shrugged like he knew nothing, which was a lie. " He is meeting now with my daughter," the assassin continued.  
  
" One Entreri is as good as another no matter the sex," Jarlaxle mused. Artemis Entreri was not even smiling.  
  
" This cold is not a normal sickness," the assassin stated dryly, " and Lazuli is off limits to you."  
  
" You can't keep her in the dark forever, Artemis," Jarlaxle reminded, suddenly becoming serious, " sooner or later you will have to tell her what she is."  
  
" And what do you think she will do when I tell her the truth that I've been keeping from her all these years," Entreri snapped, " what will she make of her herself when she learns of her hidden abilities?"  
  
" She is wise beyond her seventeen years," Jarlaxle remarked.  
  
" Wise she may be, but in many ways Lazuli is still a child and not ready to face the heritage of her mother," Entreri countered.  
  
" Her mother would have argued differently," Jarlaxle put in.  
  
" Her mother grew up knowing what she was," Artemis argued.  
  
" And why can't Lazuli do the same?" Jarlaxle's question made Entreri stop and think.  
  
" Lazuli only has you and me to look to," the assassin said slowly, " and I'm getting old. I might live another eight or ten years but that will be it for me."  
  
" Soon she might not have either of us," Jarlaxle said solemnly. Entreri snapped his gaze back to the dark elf.  
  
" What are you saying," he demanded. Jarlaxle held out his hand and stared at it for a moment.  
  
" I'm sick, as you know," he turned his hand over to stare at his palm, " I feel it in my heart. Every day it gets harder to breathe, harder to move, harder to ignore the growing ache in my entrails," he clenched his hand into a weak fist and leaned his head against it, " you say you might have another ten years left, I might have another ten weeks." Entreri was truly stunned. Was Jarlaxle admitting what he thought he was?  
  
" What is wrong," Entreri repeated gently, reaching across the table and laying a hand on Jarlaxle's arm.  
  
" Do you want the whole story or just what's wrong with me," the drow asked, not lifting his head.  
  
" The whole story," Entreri replied.  
  
" Get comfortable," Jarlaxle warned, " it's a long tale."  
  
" Tell it," the assassin urged.  
  
Jarlaxle lifted his head slowly, his ruby eyes seeming to stare off into oblivion. He was silent for several seconds before he began, " In the ancient days when the drow walked and danced on the surface, there existed five races of elves: the dark elves, the moon elves, the gold elves, the dragon elves, and the Aruine elves." The drow paused to consider his next words. " The five races lived in relative peace, enjoying the gift of long- life bestowed upon then by the magic of the Dalabrian."  
  
" Dalabrian," Entreri asked in confusion.  
  
" Instruments," Jarlaxle specified, " the Aruine were the wisest and most powerful of all the five races of elves. It was these elves that made the Dalabrian Instruments, a different one for each of the other four elven races. When played together, these four instruments brought power, protection, and longevity to the elves. But the instruments could only be properly played by their chosen wielders and their mystic song had to be played at least once every five thousand years for the magic to stay alive. Naturally that wasn't a problem in the ancient days when the races all lived together, but when the Plague of Urgutha Forka decimated the light elves and the drow were driven into the Underdark, well, you can imagine." Jarlaxle paused to let what he had said sink in.  
  
" Nobody was too apt to play music together," Entreri remarked.  
  
" Precisely," Jarlaxle confirmed, " with the drow underground and most of the Aruine killed by Urgutha's plague, the moon and gold elves fled to the forests where they managed to escape the plague and keep their races alive. The dragon elves, or the drandil as they were called, were unaffected by the plague so their numbers remained strong, but they were saddened by the death of the Aruine and the banishing of the drow, who were their closest friends."  
  
" So the drow do have one race that doesn't hate them," Entreri reasoned.  
  
" The drandil almost went with the drow into the Underdark, but their hearts were torn between their love for us and their need to help their wounded cousins. They chose to split their numbers between the two, one half followed the drow, the other half scattered over the surface to help their cousins."  
  
" What happened to them," Entreri asked, wondering why there were no drandil left if half the race stayed on the surface."  
  
" The drow were happy that the drandil had not deserted them and welcomed them, even began to crossbreed their two races, but the drandil could not survive so far from the dragons that gave them their strength and many died in the arms of the drow they had come to love. Within a century, all the drandil who had not given up on their dark cousins were dead, as were many of the elves that had been bred from both races."  
  
" A most sad story," Entreri remarked.  
  
" The last drandil of the Underdark was a female named Zembral Tavalone. She was the wielder of the Drandil Dalabrian. Zembral, the last pure blood of her race, gathered her children, all of them crossbreeds, and left the drow city of Menzoberranzan. Before she left, however, her drow lover, the Drow Dalabrian wielder, gave her his Dalabrian and bid her to keep it safe. She and her children fled back to the surface and her drow lover died only a few years later."  
  
" And the drandil of the surface," Entreri pressed.  
  
" They searched until they found their cousins and offered to help them. The Aruine had been completely annihilated by the plague and the moon and gold elves were on the brink of extinction, while the drow and the bronze skinned drandil remained numerous and strong. The light elves were afraid and lashed out at their bronze cousins. The drandil could not bring themselves to kill the light elves, not even in self defense. Only a thousand or so escaped death at the hands of the light elves who hunted them mercilessly like animals and blamed them for the plague that had almost wiped them out. The survivors were angry and stole the Dalabrians of the gold and moon elves, saying that elves that killed their own brethren did not deserve the honor of carrying the holy instruments. The leader of the surviving drandil put a curse upon the light elves. A wretched curse it was: any elf and all of his or her descendants whose hands were stained with the innocent blood of the gentle drandil would find the magic of the Dalabrian denied them."  
  
" Meaning," Entreri was confused again.  
  
" Without Dalabrian magic, the light elves lost many of their powers and had to struggle even harder to survive," Jarlaxle explained, " Zembral Tavalone and her children soon found the remnants of her kind and was appalled at the savagery shown them. The drandil broke into four groups, each clan led by one of Zembral's children, and disappeared to the winds, taking the Dalabrian Instruments with them. They have not been seen since." Jarlaxle looked back at Entreri as he finished his tale, " the drow grew corrupt under the teachings of Lolth and the surface elves have never forgiven the darker elves for the plague or taking the Dalabrian."  
  
" So why are the elves dying NOW," Entreri wanted to know, " that's the only thing I don't understand."  
  
" The four Dalabrians were played often in the ancient days," Jarlaxle reasoned, " I think that is why their magic has lasted this long, but now the old magic is failing and the elves are dying out once again." Entreri tried to digest the information Jarlaxle had just shared with him.  
  
" So you're dying because the magic that keeps the elves alive is failing," the assassin concluded.  
  
" That is what I believe," Jarlaxle confirmed, laying his head down on his crossed arms. His sides heaved as if his breathing had become very difficult all of the sudden. The drow added, " from what I gather, even the half-elves are starting to feel the effects." Apparently exhausted from the tale, Jarlaxle slumped forward, his breath rasping in his throat. Entreri rose and hurried to Jarlaxle's side.  
  
" Jarlaxle," the assassin pressed, grabbing Jarlaxle by the shoulders and shaking him, " what about Lazuli? She's part elf, will this affect her too?" Jarlaxle managed to open his carmine eyes halfway, their painful gaze struck a nerve in the callous assassin.  
  
" Perhaps," the drow said breathlessly, " if the magic is not restored..." Jarlaxle's eyes closed again as he fell into darkness.  
  
Entreri caught Jarlaxle in his arms as the drow collapsed and eased him down with his upper body sprawled over the table. The door burst open then and a panting Lazuli entered the domain.  
  
" Why are you so worn out," Entreri asked curiously.  
  
" I ran," Lazuli panted, leaning against the wall and trying to catch her breath.  
  
" You can report and tell me why you ran home after you help me here," Entreri informed.  
  
" With what," Lazuli asked, making her way over to her father. She noticed the still form of Jarlaxle and her heart skipped a beat with fear.  
  
" He's fine, don't worry," Entreri assured his daughter, gripping her shoulder, " help me get him back to his room." Each assassin took an arm and they half-carried, half-dragged Jarlaxle down the hall to his room, where they arranged him on his bed. " Come Lazuli," Entreri directed when his daughter lingered in Jarlaxle's doorway staring at the sleeping drow, " we have much to talk about." Lazuli stole one last glance at Jarlaxle before closing the door and following her father.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Zandrath inhaled deeply through his nostrils, held the breath for a couple seconds, then exhaled slowly with a heavy sigh. He was tired more than he was agitated at his twin's display. The older son was working furiously with his blades, trying desperately to blow Zandrath's weapons away with sheer strength. The younger of the Baenre brothers found himself thoroughly bored.  
  
Zandrath had no desire for the routine duels Antioch challenged him to. He preferred fighting Dantrag. That one Zandrath understood. Antioch he knew and understood too well for their fights to be of any substance. Antioch was too brutal, too narrow-minded. Zandrath could slip a sword through his brother's defenses at almost any opportunity. It wearied him.  
  
" Is that all you are," Antioch yelled at his twin, " a shell that wields a sword?"  
  
" A sword and a saber," Zandrath corrected calmly. Zandrath's unique choice of weapons was well known among the house's fighters. I was a difficult style to have one blade straight and forward and the other curving and sneaky.  
  
" Do you derive no pleasure from the sight of your blades moving in this dance," Antioch goaded.  
  
" What can you know of dancing," Zandrath questioned almost sadly, " to dance as a blade is meant to dance requires that one let go his foolish need for the fight and give himself utterly to his weapon."  
  
" Your preachings are hollow in my ears," Antioch yelled, " a true master is in total command of his weapons for they are but metal and have no spirit!"  
  
" Your will to dominate your scimitars makes you deaf to their pleas," Zandrath stated, not bothering to hide his depression, " I hear them cry to your deaf ears and it shames me that you and I came from the same loins."  
  
Zandrath deftly slipped his saber under his brother's first scimitar and locked Antioch's arm against his chest, the sharp edge of the scimitar cut his chest but he did not care. Antioch made to bring his other scimitar to bear as he tried to drive the first blade deeper, but Zandrath grabbed the second scimitar right above the crosspiece, the sharp side of the blade slicing deeply into his palm but effectively stopping the blade.  
  
Antioch was outraged and tried to kick his brother, but once again Zandrath had seen the move coming and stopped it completely by shifting his weight to his right while driving his left boot into Antioch's right knee, the one the older drow was currently balancing on. Antioch went down hard on his face, his nose breaking from the impact. Zandrath calmly pressed his weapon tips against the sides of Antioch's throat.  
  
" You are defeated," the depressed Baenre stated slowly. Without another word he sheathed his blades and walked from the gym.  
  
His chest stung from the shallow cut. He reveled in the pain of the wound for it dulled the ache in his heart. Zandrath's source of calm ironically came from the undying battle in his soul. The young Baenre was a killer, and a deadly one to boot, but his mind was a mass of conflict, a web of aching pains so thick that not even Triel could read his thoughts unless he projected them to her.  
  
This was a depressed drow, a lost soul in a vast hell. He knew it and hated it with all his heart. He wanted to go to the surface, wanted to see what he was told to hate so badly. he wanted some meaning to his life, which seemed to grow emptier with every cycle of Narbondel, the time clock of Menzoberranzan.  
  
Zandrath pulled a long dagger from his belt and ran his finger over the edge, smearing the blade with blood from the cut on his hand. Without warning, he pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and sliced a long, deep cut along the length of his arm. The pain was intense but it made him forget about the war raging in his soul. A war fought between his killer nature and the strong sense of morality he tried so hard to understand, but could never comprehend.  
  
He grimaced from the pain, but it was fleeting and the old aches returned quickly. He considered cutting himself again, but the notion felt so very wrong.  
  
" Why do you hurt yourself purposely," Dantrag asked from the shadows. Zandrath turned to regard his teacher.  
  
" With this pain," he held up his arm, which was bleeding severely, " I can forget the aches in my weary heart."  
  
" By cutting these marks into your skin you make a mockery of yourself," Dantrag stated, closing the distance between them and gripping Zandrath's wrist.  
  
" I don't care," Zandrath wailed, his voice breaking as he gashed a second wound across the first one, " Why should I care at all?!" He would have cut himself again but Dantrag held his other wrist firmly. " What do I gain from my pitiful existence?!" He screamed the words as he thrashed wildly, " Why do I exist only to serve as the sword of a bloodthirsty goddess!?" The wild drow finally wrenched his arms free of Dantrag's grip and threw himself down, pounding the stone floor so hard that his fingers were soon scraped and bleeding as well. " Why does my soul cry out as it does, yet only I can hear it!?"  
  
Dantrag was caught completely off guard, he had never seen such torment as he saw in Zandrath. The poor drow was willing to cut himself to ease a greater pain. Dantrag felt he should try to calm the unsteady drow before he could do any more harm to himself. Triel, after all, would not be pleased to learn that her prized Zandrath had killed himself. Dantrag slowly knelt beside Zandrath and placed a hand on each of his shoulders. Zandrath did not acknowledge Dantrag's touch, he only continued to shake violently.  
  
" Calm yourself, Zandrath," Dantrag advised, " this self-mutilation will only make the pain worse when it comes back." Zandrath slowly lifted his head and locked his golden eyes with Dantrag's amber ones. Sadness made those beautiful orbs dull and almost lifeless, despite the gleam of the tears rimming them.  
  
" How can you know," the young Baenre sobbed, " how could you ever begin to understand the war I carry in my soul?" Purely on impulse, Dantrag wrapped his arms around his nephew and held him closely. Zandrath was a little stunned but had to admit that he felt so comforted in Dantrag's embrace. The young Baenre curled himself up and leaned against Dantrag's chest.  
  
" Because I am fighting a similar, if not the same, battle," Dantrag whispered in Zandrath's ear. The younger drow allowed Dantrag to haul him to his feet. The two locked gazes, Dantrag still holding Zandrath up by the shoulders. " Ever since I lost my battle with Drizzt Do'Urden I have been fighting to understand what he put in me when he put his scimitar through my heart!" Dantrag wrenched his tunic open and showed Zandrath the open wound festering in his chest, a wound that did not bleed but clearly showed Dantrag's beating heart. " This wound will not heal," Dantrag stated, " no matter how many healing spells or how many medicines I endure, the wound will not close. Drizzt Do'Urden put something more than just a scimitar in my heart that day. Somehow he planted the seeds of morality in me and I have been fighting with myself ever since I awoke!" Dantrag stopped abruptly and turned away.  
  
" We fight the same battle, you and I," Zandrath stated, reaching out and touching Dantrag's shoulder, " might we fight it together?" Hope rang clear in his voice.  
  
Dantrag considered his nephew's proposal. It would certainly help if he had someone to confide in, a trusted friend perhaps, a Khal'abbil. If they could unravel the mystery of the morality they felt? Could they become as strong as Drizzt Do'Urden?  
  
Dantrag was tired and weary of fighting in the name of a goddess who did not appreciate him and the possibility of becoming as powerful as the renegade Do'Urden was more than a little tempting. And he trusted Zandrath in a way he trusted no one else. Would a friendship with his nephew really be so wrong? Perhaps such a friendship would be for the better of them both. Perhaps then he could better understand what had made Drizzt so powerful. He turned and smiled at Zandrath.  
  
" Yes, let us fight this battle, this war, together," Dantrag agreed. Zandrath managed a weak smile before he collapsed. Dantrag was ready and caught the falling drow in his arms, then he carried Zandrath away.  
  
In his hiding place among the shadows, Antioch was shocked. If his mother knew that Zandrath so unstable would she still give him the position of Weapons Master? he wondered. His evil grin taking to his pointed ears, Antioch rushed down the corridor to claim the title he wanted so very badly.  
  
To be continued...  
  
AN : Oh that was hard to write. (cracks neck) The whole concept of the history of the elves and all. Maybe I'll go back and write a story about that after I'm finished here. And the drow words used in this chapter (except 'Teigo' which is latin for shadow) are all authentic drow words taken mostly from 'Legacy of the Drow.' I need to go listen to some Rob Zombie and think on ideas for chapter four (stomach growls) and eat. As always feel free to flame. 


	5. 4 Lullaby of Darkness

Disclaimer : Is there really any need for this? You guys know that I own only the characters that can't be found in the FR books. And I let you know when a new one is coming usually. Like Sulana, Ptolanomy, Tirilaphaena, and Melkor(who is named after a character from Tolkein's 'The Silmarilian').  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Four : Lullaby of Darkness  
  
Dagasta, House Baenre's Weapon Master and current Patron, lengthened his stride as he headed fro his destination. He pushed into Dantrag's first room and found the drow polishing his swords.  
  
" What do you want," Dantrag snapped not looking up from his work.  
  
" To talk," Dagasta replied, moving closer to Dantrag, who still refused to look up from his polishing, " I know what happened between you and Zandrath."  
  
" So," Dantrag snapped coldly.  
  
" Do you know what makes him that way," Dagasta questioned coolly.  
  
" Do you," Dantrag shot back.  
  
" Yes I do," Dagasta retorted, " you can't hide your thoughts from me, you know."  
  
" So why come talk to me when you can just pick my brain," Dantrag asked sarcastically, finishing his first sword and moving on to the second.  
  
" I consider that rude," the patron said simply, leaning against a wall and picking at the skin under his curving, claw-like fingernails with a long knife, " and it's such a waste of energy when I can just ask."  
  
" What makes you think I'll cooperate," Dantrag reminded, " I hold no alliances with you." Dagasta grinned and his yellow eye twitched while his green eye closed halfway.  
  
" Neither of us agree with Triel's plans," the patron remarked.  
  
" An attempt at the conquest of the surface is what killed Matron Baenre and put Triel on the house's throne," Dantrag agreed.  
  
" You speak of Matron Yvonnel Baenre," Dagasta commented, a statement that made Dantrag finally turn and face his visitor, a shocked look on his face.  
  
" You knew my mother's real name," the former Weapon Master demanded, " how?"  
  
" My sister picked the brain of that Matron years ago and told all of us," Dagasta stated simply, as if the information were as worthless as the news of a kobold's death, " we often used that knowledge to monitor House Baenre's actions and Matron Yvonnel's thoughts."  
  
" Who are you," Dantrag demanded, the surprise still evident on his face and in his tone. Dagasta grinned again, his two-toned eyes showing his inner glee at having reached this point of his plan.  
  
" You probably won't remember my original House," the patron stated, more to his knife than Dantrag, " you were still asleep when it was destroyed."  
  
" Try me," Dantrag challenged.  
  
" We were the tenth house in the time of the Hun'ett-Do'Urden war," Dagasta answered simply, again speaking as if the information meant nothing, " we became the eighth house after the fall of those families and soon became seventh after the fall of House Oblodra. Then my sister, a powerful Matron by then, betrayed and denounced the Spider Queen. She fled to the surface and most of our family was destroyed." Dagasta slid his dagger back into his belt and faced Dantrag with a wide grin on his face. He added, " but I am a survivor."  
  
Suddenly a pain-filled cry shattered the air and brought Dagasta's oversized ears up.  
  
" Zandrath," the patron realized, recognizing the voice of his golden-eyed son. As the drow turned to go, Dantrag grabbed his arm.  
  
" What House?" Dagasta squinted his yellow eye at Dantrag before answering.  
  
" House Daiblon Oculadae."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The night settled over the Sword Coast with its usual display of stars. They were sailing again. The four pirate vessels had each given a fraction of their crew to man the Sea Sprite, which their leader had obviously decided to keep as their own. There was a lot of singing between the ships, particularly Scarlet Gypsy and Spookshow. Robillard hated it.  
  
It wasn't that the pirates had bad voices, quite the opposite actually. It was the songs they were singing, ghastly, haunting pieces of dark poetry made more disturbing by the instruments that many of the pirates played. Spookshow's crew played mostly flutes and pipes their high notes ringing the wizard's ears. Demon Pinion's pirates played guitars, violas, and other string instruments. One pirate girl from the Demon Pinion even played a magnificent harp, its frame and strings made from pure silver. Scarlet Gypsy played clarinets, oboes, and bassoons. But all the ships had singers, save for the silent Crimson Fell Beast, from which no sound emanated.  
  
For the most part, the vocalists were females, most of them climbing to the corners of their respective ships and pouring out their voices, low sopranos and high altos mostly, giving themselves over to their strange lyrics.  
  
" Atop this balcony, here I sit, nursing my wounds, clawed and bit..."  
  
" Pay they will for I am back, through their wings my talons will rack..."  
  
" Up from this balcony and into the sky, fangs bared and head high..."  
  
" Backwing down, battle has begun, carry a war that's never done..."  
  
" Sun has set surrendering to night, makes no difference in this fight..."  
  
" Angry hissing, deafening roars, above the scene my dragon soars..."  
  
" Lash out hard with claws and tail, push them harder, we will not fail..."  
  
" A flash, and spurt of red, down falls our enemy, still and dead..."  
  
" Song bursts forth, the war is done, rejoice my children, we have won!"  
  
A great cheer burst from the three ships as the song ended and the pirate choir began to vocalize a series of high-pitched syllables that lingered in Robillard's ears. Words that sounded Elvish, yet made no sense to the wizard, but were somehow bone-chilling and sent shivers down his spine.  
  
Abruptly all music ceased and Robillard looked around for the cause of the silence. His answer came in the form of a dozen dark shapes rising up from the water around Crimson Fell Beast and circling the five ships. The pirates of the other vessels all fell to their knees and offered prayers of thanks and honor as the shapes took their perches on the ships, one taking up residence just in front of Robillard's position.  
  
The beast was an Umi, a cross between the great leviathans of the sea and the mighty dragons of the sky. This one stood on four powerful legs, the front two had hands that were slightly webbed and sported talons as long as Robillard's hand, the hind limbs were fully webbed, with smaller, but still deadly, claws. Its sleek, muscular body was a smoky indigo color with a short sail running from the crown of its serpentine head to the tip of its finned tail. Enormous wings had sprouted from its shoulders and were outstretched to their full length, their black membranes gleaming wetly.  
  
" How do you like my friends, Wizard," Seivriel asked from the back of the Umi. Robillard looked up to see the pirate leader seated comfortably on the back of the sea beast. She placed a hand on the Umi's dart-shaped head and scratched the ridges above its milky, gray eyes with affection. " Undyingly loyal and incredibly strong and agile," she remarked, " quite remarkable beasts."  
  
" Demonic abominations and nothing more," Robillard spat. Umis were indeed an unintended species, created by a fanatical and essentially insane sorcerer, then dumped into the oceans, and left to die. But the sea beasts flourished and became masters of the water and sea air.  
  
" Such harsh words for so beautiful a creature," Seivriel pouted, leaning against the Umi's long neck and brushing its slippery skin with her hand.  
  
" Is a flame not beautiful as well," Robillard retorted, " yet when you touch it, it burns your flesh?"  
  
" Beauty has its delusions," Seivriel agreed, " the drow elves are a fine example. They are a beautiful but entirely evil race. Except for your ranger friend, Drizzt Do'Urden." Robillard shifted uncomfortably. " I know you sent Deudermont to your drow friend, Wizard, you can hide nothing from me."  
  
" And does that ability to read my mind make you a wizard as well," Robillard spat contemptibly, " or are you nothing more than a skulking witch?"  
  
" Not quite either," Seivriel slid from the Umi's back and approached Robillard, " what do you think I am, Robillard?"  
  
Robillard stared at her for a moment before answering, " I think you are a heartless and demonic witch warped by dark magic."  
  
" I actually meant species wise, but that does seem like a fairly accurate description of my personality," the pirate leader laughed, " try and guess my species."  
  
Robillard took a long, hard look at Seivriel for the first time. She was skinny and her bones were clearly visible, particularly her high, sharp cheekbones. Her black eyes, endless pools of ebony pitch, seemed too big and too angled and were made even darker by her silvery blonde hair, which was tightly braided and hung like a tail down the full length of her back. Her ears, which seemed to stick straight out of her skull, were long, pointed, and heavy with earrings. When she smiled, she showed pearl-white eye-teeth that were more akin to the fangs of a wolf (or possibly a dragon) than the canines of a mortal. Overall, she was like a fiendishly warped elf.  
  
" Your ears tell me that you are at least part elf and your wasted figure hints at human blood, but your black eyes and fang teeth confuse me," Robillard decided.  
  
" Oh very good, Robillard," Seivriel clapped, " you have guessed it almost perfectly. Part human and part elf I am, but the black of my eyes are not natural colors for either race. Nor are my fangs a trait of the two species."  
  
" Then what makes your eyes as black and your teeth as fangs," Robillard asked. Seivriel smiled and produced her violin from thin air. She placed it under her bony chin and set the bowstring in place.  
  
" My eyes are colored black from a race that has not walked freely on the surface for thousands of years," the pirate replied.  
  
" Drow?" Robillard gasped.  
  
Seivriel snickered, " For the origin of my fangs you may ask the other souls that Mizutatsu and I have consumed."  
  
" Consumed," Robillard stammered.  
  
Seivriel struck the first notes of her demonic melody.  
  
This song was not made of the stinging, carrying notes Robillard had heard thus far in his stay with the pirates. These notes were quick and short but spaced far apart and each seemed to hang ominously in the air.  
  
The Umis responded to the song by lifting into the star-filled sky and circling the Sea Sprite in clearly defined groups and patterns. The other pirates lifted their voices as the violin, Mizutatsu, burst into song, its voice born from the mouth of its wielder.  
  
" Baneful creatures come to me... Over river, lake, and sea..."  
  
Robillard felt a keen ache in his chest, as if his skin was being stretched beyond his limits. The Umis' aerial dance became faster.  
  
" Gather 'round and do my will... Dance and sing and lastly kill..."  
  
A great screeching shook the ships as nine Drakes, wicked, pygmy dragons black as charred flesh, joined in the aerial dance. Robillard winced as the ache doubled.  
  
" Fiends of darkness and of night... Join with me and share my might..."  
  
Huge, ebony-feathered birds trailing ashy blackness in their wake swooped down on the pirate ships, one even came so close that it sliced a deep gash across Seivriel's left shoulder. The pirate leader did not even flinch. The black birds, Mortuos Fowl by name, mingled with the Umis and Drakes. Robillard bit his tongue to keep from screaming, so great was the pull.  
  
" Umis, Drakes, and Mortuos Fowl... Sing and let me hear you howl..."  
  
The flying beasts let forth the loudest, shrillest, and most terrible cries they could muster. Many pirates fell to their knees clutching their ears in pain, so awful was the sound. But even the din of that dire howling was nothing compared to the screeching, frenzied wails of sound that emanated from Mizutatsu. Robillard was screaming in agony as the notes burned in his ears and mind. He thrashed and twisted, trying to free his hands so that he might shut out the monstrous sounds. His body felt as if it was being torn in two.  
  
Suddenly the air was rent by the roar of a mighty, black dragon. The lesser pirates were afraid. Never before had Seivriel played so powerful a lullaby that it called a true dragon, let alone a black one. The frenzy only doubled as two red dragons, both young but still fearsome, joined the throng, followed by a large flock of Black Wyverns, the elusive bird dragons.  
  
" Welcome all who love the dark... Feel my song and to me hark..."  
  
A score of Harpies wailed a hellish greeting as they too joined the flock. Seivriel was beyond the simple satisfaction of the music. Never before had she and Mizutatsu called so varied and powerful a flock as this. Usually they only managed to bring Umis and Mortuos Fowl. Occasionally a Drake or Harpy would join, but never had so many come to their song.  
  
" Moment of our ecstasy... OFFERED SPIRIT COME TO ME!" Seivriel and Mizutatsu screamed with pleasure and glee while Robillard screamed with pain and torture. The wizard's soul tore free of his body and was drawn into the violin, like water into a dry cloth. Above, the monsters howled and screeched and wailed and roared, showing their approval and pleasure. The pirates cheered and the mass of dark creatures exploded into sudden outward motion, spreading like waves into the air around the ships. Robillard's body slumped lifelessly against the mast.  
  
Seivriel and Mizutatsu fell to the deck. Seivriel gasped for breath while the violin returned from the shores of ecstasy.  
  
' We have played a more powerful song than ever this night,' the instrument cheered.  
  
' Tonight we have called dragons, the very purest embodiments of power, to our song,' Seivriel agreed, ' we are truly powerful, my violin, my Water Dragon.' A tear fell from her eye and she kissed the bowstring of her perverted instrument.  
  
" Commodore," a stunned crewman stammered, " the monsters." Seivriel turned her black eyes to the sky and was surprised. Not a single creature had departed.  
  
" You are free," Seivriel declared, standing tall and proud, " leave as you would, mighty denizens of the dark." The pirate leader bowed low.  
  
The Umis drifted lazily down to the water and disappeared beneath it without a sound. The Wyverns roared softly with happiness before catching the sea breezes that would take them away. The Drakes let out farewell howls and soared away on the ocean wind. The Harpies, too, wailed their good-byes and departed on the breeze. The Mortuos Fowl cawed gleefully and became clouds of ash, dispersing themselves to the air currents. The three dragons, however, would not go.  
  
" Why do they linger, Commodore," the crewman asked fearfully when the three dragons landed on the ships. The biggest one, a red, took perch on Crimson Fell Beast's central mast. The other red landed on Scarlet Gypsy's deck and laid down like a great cat. The black beast set itself down on Sea Sprite's lower deck and stared at Seivriel with his great, slitted eyes.  
  
" My ships and crew are honored by your presence, Great Dragon," Seivriel addressed, bowing low to the beast.  
  
" I am Melkor, Son of Kurokeseid," the dragon stated, dipping his head to the pirate leader.  
  
" The greetings of myself and my underlings, Melkor, Son of Kurokeseid," Seivriel bowed again, " I am Seivriel Versail of the pirate Vessel Crimson Fell Beast."  
  
" I am Sulana, Daughter of Tirilaphaena," the red dragon aboard Scarlet Gypsy called.  
  
" And I am Ptolanomy, Son of Hilluvistain," the red on Crimson Fell Beast echoed.  
  
" We welcome you all, Melkor Son of Kurokeseid, Sulana Daughter of Tirilaphaena, and Ptolanomy Son of Hilluvistain," Seivriel greeted, " might I be so bold as to inquire the reason for your presence."  
  
The three dragons spoke amongst themselves in a foreign language for several minutes. Finally, Melkor spoke again, " we have taken a liking to you, Lady Pirate who wields the instrument of our allies, and we have decided to spend some time with you."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Zandrath walked slowly down the hallway not really paying attention to where he was going. If he had been, he might have seen Antioch before the older Baenre jumped him. Antioch slammed Zandrath hard against the wall and had a dagger against his throat before the younger Baenre could cry out in surprise.  
  
" What the," Zandrath stammered.  
  
" Where's your calm now, Little Brother," Antioch taunted, pressing the dagger against Zandrath's neck, " or did you lose it when you cut the wound on your arm." He grabbed Zandrath's injured arm and twisted it.  
  
" What are you doing," Zandrath demanded painfully.  
  
" Fulfilling a request from Matron Triel," Antioch mocked gleefully. The Baenre son let go of his brother's arm grabbed his throat, pulling the younger drow closer to him. " She wants proof of your instability." Antioch drove his dagger into the soft flesh under Zandrath's left eye. He waited a moment as Zandrath screamed and jerked violently. Antioch got his arm around Zandrath's neck and began to carve out his brother's eye.  
  
The younger Baenre screamed and howled in pain and tried to wrench free, but his brother held him too tightly. After several agonizing moments Zandrath's eyes slipped free of its socket and Antioch released his grip. Zandrath fell to the floor, holding a hand over his empty, bleeding socket.  
  
" Mother will be pleased," Antioch smirked, wiping blood from the quivering eyeball in his hand. With a nasty grin splitting his face, Antioch disappeared into the shadows.  
  
Zandrath slumped against the wall and tenderly felt the empty place where his eye had once been. The flesh was torn wickedly, and several patches of jagged skin clung grotesquely to the socket. Blood flowed freely from the wound like scarlet tears.  
  
Swift footsteps to his left turned Zandrath's head in time for him to see Dantrag and his father, Dagasta, hurrying toward him.  
  
" What's wrong," Dagasta asked kneeling beside Zandrath, who hand covered his empty socket again. Dantrag also knelt before the young drow. Curious as to the blood dripping down his nephew's face, Dantrag gently moved Zandrath's hand, and gasped at the sight. Dagasta carefully took his son's head in his hands and examined the wound, his breathing coming in shocked gulps.  
  
" Who did this to you," the patron asked, anger evident in his voice and his yellow eye flashing.  
  
" Antioch," Zandrath squeaked, " he attacked me and cut my eye out. Then he ran off."  
  
" Did he say why," Dantrag pressed.  
  
" Something about Triel wanting proof of my instability," Zandrath whimpered, tears of pain filling his remaining eye. Dagasta laid his cheek against his son's forehead and put his arms around him.  
  
Dantrag stared at the father and son for several moments, confused by such an open display of an affection that was forbidden in their society.  
  
" Come with me," the patron directed a moment later, helping Zandrath to his feet.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Kimmuriel Oblodra surveyed the room before him. This was the infirmary. Usually this room was empty, save for the few soldiers who managed to substantially hurt themselves and even then they never stayed longer than a single cycle of Narbondel. Now the room was packed with drow, most of them lying on soft mats, moaning and tossing in their troubled sleep. Wizards knelt beside several of the mats, chanting softly and casting healing spells over the sick soldiers to no visible avail.  
  
Kimmuriel stopped beside a particular mat, on which rested a very miserable looking drow male who happened to be his lieutenant, Blasko. The suffering elf managed to open his eyes and stare at Kimmuriel. Blasko's eyes had once been blood-red, but they had faded to almost stark white, showing only faint, red slashes along the remains of the iris. Kimmuriel wondered if Blasko was blind.  
  
" Blasko," he asked gently, placing a hand on his lieutenant's forehead, which was burning up with fever, " can you hear me?"  
  
" Yes," Blasko moaned slowly, his head turning to face Kimmuriel, " but... I cannot... see you..."  
  
Kimmuriel studied Blasko's face. His hair was matted by sweat and there were trickles of crimson fluid welled up in his ears, nose, and eyes. His whole body shook violently with chills and pain.  
  
" Don't try to talk," Kimmuriel ordered, placing a finger on each of Blasko's temples, " project your thoughts to the front of your mind and I will read them."  
  
Blasko closed his eyes and slipped deep into his mind. ' I hurt everywhere, Sir,' he said telepathically to Kimmuriel, ' my body feels like it's on fire and I can't move without something aching.'  
  
' Don't move, Blasko,' Kimmuriel instructed, ' I'm going to try to ease the pain.'  
  
' Don't Sir,' Blasko's mind cried, ' the sickness will pass to you!' Kimmuriel let go of Blasko.  
  
" Don't you die on me, Blasko," the mercenary leader ordered, " it'll be too hard to replace you."  
  
" I'm... sorry... sir..." Blasko went limp. Kimmuriel grabbed the lieutenant's shoulders and felt for a pulse at his throat.  
  
" Don't you die on me now, Blasko," he repeated. Blasko remained silent and unmoving. " Damnit," Kimmuriel cursed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
" Lazuli, I'm not sure how to say this but," Artemis Entreri's brow furrowed and his gray eyes took on a distant look for a moment. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, " Jarlaxle is dying."  
  
The statement almost killed Lazuli then and there. Her eyes widened and she pressed a hand to her mouth to stifle her gasp. Jarlaxle? Dying? How could that be?  
  
The older Entreri seemed to know her thoughts.  
  
" He said the failing of the old elvin magic is causing elves all over Toril to die of a mysterious illness," he explained. Somehow, he could not meet his daughter's eyes.  
  
" I have to go to him," Lazuli cried, turning to run. Entreri reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could leave.  
  
" You could catch the disease from him, Lazuli," he warned, his voice rising in volume, " if that happens and you die!" His voice stopped as he shut his eyes again. The old assassin buried her in a crushing embrace, his voice breaking as he spoke again, " I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, Lazuli!"  
  
" Father," Lazuli hugged him back, " please understand. You and Jarlaxle are all I have, if I lose either of you," she buried her face in her father's chest and sobbed, " I love you both so much, I can't bear the thought of losing one of you! Please, let me go to Jarlaxle, if only to say goodbye."  
  
" Go then," Entreri conceded, " go and see him." He released Lazuli.  
  
" Thank you for understanding," she cried, then she turned and rushed to Jarlaxle's room.  
  
" Lazuli?" The drow was awake, but he seemed so very weak.  
  
" Yes, Jarlaxle," Lazuli choked, " I am here." She ran to his side and fell against his chest sobbing, " why didn't you tell me, Jarlaxle? Why?" Jarlaxle put his arms around the crying girl.  
  
" I wasn't sure then," he explained, " but now I know," he paused and laid his cheek on Lazuli's head, " and so do you."  
  
" There must be a cure somewhere," Lazuli insisted, " tell me and I will get it for you."  
  
" There may be one who can point the way for you," Jarlaxle revealed, " but she will not be easily found."  
  
" Who and where? Tell me and I will go," Lazuli demanded, looking Jarlaxle in the eye, " I wont let you die without a fight."  
  
" You might as well tell her, Jarlaxle," Entreri remarked from the doorway, " she'll find out sooner or later."  
  
" She and I were friends when she lived in Menzoberranzan, you will likely find her under the name of Seralon if she hasn't changed it," the drow began.  
  
" Seralon," Lazuli repeated, committing the name to memory..  
  
" She and her brood now dwell in the frozen tundra of Icewind Dale," Jarlaxle continued.  
  
" Icewind Dale," Lazuli memorized  
  
" Ask the dwarves of Kelvin's Cairn and they will point you to her. Tell them that I sent you and you should have little trouble," the drow finished.  
  
" I shall prepare at once," Lazuli declared rushing to her room to collect the necessary items.  
  
" She loves you dearly," Entreri stated flatly once his daughter was out of earshot.  
  
" I thought as much," Jarlaxle smirked at the assassin, " will you go with her?"  
  
" I'm too old for such adventuring," Entreri replied, shaking his head, " besides, I detest Icewind Dale."  
  
" Because Drizzt called it home," Jarlaxle retorted. Entreri glared at the dark elf. " That's it, isn't it? You wont go because you don't want to face the dwarves who called Drizzt a friend."  
  
" No," Entreri denied sharply, " it's like I said before. I'm too old."  
  
" Seventy isn't so old," Jarlaxle quipped.  
  
" For a dark elf maybe," Entreri countered turning his head so that he could see down the hallway.  
  
" And what of Lazuli," the drow questioned, " you'll send her to Icewind Dale alone?"  
  
" Now that I have no intention of doing," the assassin assured, cocking his head to face the drow.  
  
" You won't go and I can't go," Jarlaxle stated, " so who will go with her?"  
  
Entreri sighed heavily. " I'm going to the docks," he declared, standing upright, " make certain that Lazuli doesn't leave until I get back. I have to see if a certain ship is in port." He turned to go but stopped and added slyly, " remember, seventy is too old for adventuring and seven hundred is too old for filandering with the hearts of young girls."  
  
To be continued...  
  
AN: Who liked it? I find this chapter kind of tedious, probably because I have to make sure that I'm being clear and not getting sidetracked. Am I doing an Ok job? Please review and tell me, even if you already did for an earlier chapter, review again so I know I'm meeting expectations (and so I know that someone is still reading or else I'll just stop writing.) And how are the names I'm coming up with sounding? Please give me feedback. 


	6. 5 Lie With Me

Disclaimer : (singing to the Oscar Meyer Weener tune) Oh how I wish I owned the Forgotten Realms people... (chirping crickets) What? Was that not funny? (pause, eagle screeches in the background) Hey! Is anyone alive out there? (someone in the audience throws a tomato at Semdai) Hey! That wasn't very nice! (runs away while being pelted with over-ripe vegetables) Ah! Over-ripe vegetables!  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Five : Lie With Me  
  
Triel Baenre reclined arrogantly on her magnificent throne. Dagasta knelt before her, awaiting permission to rise. Behind him, Zandrath also groveled to the unruly matron.  
  
"Rise," Triel yawned, "what do you want?" Dagasta rose as quickly as he dared, but kept his eyes down.  
  
"I came to inquire the circumstances of Zandrath's losing an eye," the patron stated, keeping his head bowed.  
  
"This eye," Triel taunted calmly, holding up Zandrath's missing eyeball. The golden iris quivered as if it was frozen in time and trying to break free. Dagasta stole a glance up. The sight made him sick. "I ordered its removal," the matron said smugly.  
  
"May I be so bold as to ask why," Dagasta requested, "would not a drow with two eyes fight more efficiently than one with only a single eye?"  
  
Dagasta received a vicious blow from Triel's snake whip for his request.  
  
"You dare to question my actions, insolent male," the matron roared, raining blows down on Dagasta. The patron prostrated himself before Triel and arched his back. Zandrath winced at the sound of the snapping whip.  
  
"No, Matron," Dagasta cried.  
  
"You forget your place, Dagasta," Triel admonished, "patron of this house you may be, but as far you have given me no daughters." It was the patron's turn to wince. It was well known what happened to patrons who could not produce daughters for their houses.  
  
"Lie with me tonight, my Matron," Dagasta dared to request, still keeping his head down, "if I can sire a daughter will you return Zandrath's eye?" Triel would have killed Dagasta then and there if his request had not been so shocking. Never before had she seen a male be so bold to request his matron to lie with him. In drow society, it was supposed to be the other way around, except males were never given the option of refusing. But the prospect of a daughter from Dagasta's seed was enticing to Triel. His sons were among the finest fighters in Menzoberranzan. How powerful might his daughters become?  
  
"I will grant you this request, Patron," Triel conceded, "you will lie with me when Narbondel's light begins to decline. Should you sire a daughter, I will return Zandrath's eye. Should you fail or sire another male, I will tear out your innards one by one and feed them to a spider colony."  
  
"Yes, my Matron," Dagasta gulped.  
  
"Come here, Zandrath," Triel commanded, switching her attention to her son, "stand before me." Zandrath stood shakily and slowly approached Matron Triel. He stood before her with his head down. "Your brother tells me that you cut yourself intentionally," Triel hissed, "is this true?"  
  
"It is true, Matron," Zandrath confirmed quietly.  
  
"Show me," Triel ordered. Zandrath pulled back his left sleeve and revealed the healing wounds. For that, he received a sharp slap in the face. "I want to see you do it, foolish male," Triel snapped.  
  
"I'm sorry, Matron," Zandrath apologized hastily. He quickly pulled back his other sleeve and drew his dagger from his belt.  
  
Dagasta, who was peeking at the scene, held his breath.  
  
Zandrath sliced the sharp blade across his arm, deeply gashing the flesh. He gritted his teeth against the pain.  
  
"Again," Triel ordered, smiling at the pain on her son's face. Zandrath made another gash, parallel to the first. This time he loosed a stifled moan. "Once more," Triel pressed. Zandrath slashed again, diagonally across the first two. His hands and jaw clenched so hard he was sure they would never relax. Blood flowed down his forearm, dripped from his elbow, and splashed on the floor. He gradually lifted his head and stared Triel in the face. "Well done," the matron praised, "the two of you may go."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Of all the ports on the Sword Coast, there was no captain more calm and poised than Deudermont; however, standing before the lords of Waterdeep, he did not seem so.  
  
"I'm telling you, I have to go back out there," the old captain insisted, "that's MY crew out there and I have to go help them!" It wasn't like him to be so overwrought about something, but then again his ship and crew had been captured by one of the most notorious pirates on the Sword Coast.  
  
"We are charting the most likely course of the pirates and planning a counterstrike meant to reclaim the Sea Sprite and any surviving crew members," the lord in charge assured, but his voice was too calm for Deudermont's liking.  
  
"How do you know where the pirates are going," he demanded, his voice starting to rise in volume, "and even if you could catch them do you think a single ship could take back the Sea Sprite?" The lords were uncomfortable in their silence. Deudermont continued, "you didn't see this pirate leader. I did, stared into her black eyes, heard her voice as she sang in a tongue I didn't understand."  
  
"Please calm yourself, Captain," one lord interjected.  
  
"How can I after what I experienced at her hands," Deudermont despaired heavily, "I should have heeded the stories of her violin. That cursed instrument. She must have received it from a demon of the Abyss." A dejected expression formed on Deudermont's aged face. "I find it hard to believe there's anybody who survived such attacks to tell the stories."  
  
"We are doing the best we can, Captain," the leader lord assured, "we are making negotiations with the southern ports to ask for their assistance." The old captain shook his head.  
  
"The southern pirate hunters are too scared to go after her underships, let alone the flagship itself. It's her territory and she rules it tightly. Even Calimshan's armada won't go after her. No one knows how many vessels she commands. She ambushed my ship with three hidden vessels of her own. Three! And we never knew they were there until they had us boxed." He sighed deeply.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Bone Ghost, tied in the last pier of the dock, was well named. A powerful caravel she was, sturdy of build and full of sail. But her hands all had wary eyes and twitching fingers. They were a ragged crew, a few of them sported some visible brawn, but most were built with only enough muscle tissue to make them move.  
  
The captain was little more than a skeleton with vital organs and skin. Her figure was so wasted, Entreri could have clasped her neck in one hand and still have all his fingers touch each other. Her eyes were huge, green as new grass, and stared into Entreri's very soul, or so they seemed to. Her name was Eleanor Calicol, the fifth link on Living Dead Girl's chain.  
  
"Passage for one to Icewind Dale, you ask, Powerful Assassin," Eleanor calculated, her large head lolling on her spindly neck, "not often a service we do."  
  
Entreri cursed his luck. If only one of Seivriel's other ships had been in port, any ship but Bone Ghost, even the volatile Demon Pinion would be better than this skeletal caravel. Eleanor had the same effect on him as a drow female did. She made his skin crawl.  
  
"I'm an associate of Seivriel," Entreri pressed, "when will she dock here again?"  
  
"Works with Seivriel, nobody knows," Eleanor droned, her famished figure swaying as if to a silent tune, "out she goes, back she comes, never know do we underlings." Her word choice irritated the assassin.  
  
"When was the last time Crimson Fell Beast sailed," Entreri demanded as calmly as he could.  
  
"The flagship sails when Seivriel says the flagship sails," Eleanor drawled. Entreri made several silent curses.  
  
"Well, an associate of mine and Seivriel's needs passage north," He argued.  
  
"North... not our waters are the cold seas beyond Baldur's Gate," Eleanor stated, "make exceptions we do not often." Entreri wanted so badly to strangle the maddening pirate. "Ask Seivriel will I," Eleanor declared, standing up. She sauntered past Entreri to an iron stand which held a large bowl made of black pearl and filled with a not so mysterious, red fluid.  
  
Eleanor, who also happened to be the ship's only wizard, took a pinch of red sand from a dish on the lower shelf of the stand and sprinkled it into the bowl. The scarlet liquid bubbled and swirled.  
  
"Why am I called to by Bone Ghost's captain," a voice from seemingly nowhere demanded. A voice that was familiar to the old assassin.  
  
"There be an assassin here asking passage north," Eleanor replied, staring into the scrying bowl as she spoke.  
  
"The northern waters are not our territory," the voice stated, "tell him to look elsewhere for his passage." At this point, Entreri stood and joined Eleanor at the scrying bowl, pushing the pirate aside and gazing fully at the face of Seivriel Versail.  
  
"It's been so long since we last did business together, Seivriel," the assassin chuckled, "I'm inclined to think you're not happy to see me again." The pirate leader's face smirked.  
  
"Well, well," she teased, "look what fell out of the black dragon's mouth. Artemis Entreri, what brings you to be seeking my humble services?"  
  
"A friend of mine needs a swift ride to Icewind Dale," Entreri repeated, " and no one on the Sword Coast has faster ships the yours."  
  
"Artemis Entreri keeps no friends," Seivriel smirked, "or has life as a bounty hunter changed your attitude?" It was true. Entreri's life up until a decade ago had been a bounty hunter's life. That was how he had met Seivriel and her pirate band.  
  
"That is irrelevant and a waste of precious time," Entreri blocked, "you remember Lazuli, correct?"  
  
"Of course," Seivriel's face replied, "she'd be about seventeen now, if memory serves me right. Why? Is she the one going to Icewind Dale?"  
  
"Still sharp as a dragon's talons," Entreri remarked with a casual grin. He ran a hand through his graying hair before continuing, "so can you do this for me?"  
  
"Anything for Artemis Entreri," Seivriel's face grinned mischievously.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"What were you thinking," Dantrag exclaimed, "actually asking Triel to sleep with you?" Dagasta shrugged, not paying attention to Dantrag's antics. He sat on his bed with his head in his hands, lost in thought. The patron wondered if he was being rational in his chosen path. Of course it was impossible for him to turn back now. But would his course really help his golden eyed son?  
  
"Are even listening," Dantrag growled.  
  
"No," Dagasta replied absentmindedly, "actually I wasn't."  
  
"Why are you doing this," Dantrag repeated.  
  
The patron thought for a few seconds before answering, "I really don't know."  
  
A loud know on the door preceded Antioch's arrival. The emerald eyed fighter grinned smugly at Dagasta.  
  
"Matron Triel is ready for you, Patron," he smirked. Dagasta's heart ached to his son so warped. Nevertheless he followed Antioch, solemnly and silently, to doors of Triel's private chambers.  
  
Dantrag watched them go with mixed emotions. It confused him that Dagasta would give his life for the sake of his son, but at the same time he understood that the patron treasured his sons, even the sadistic Antioch. Dantrag could not understand the why, though. Why did Dagasta feel that putting his life on the line was worth helping his son? Why was Dagasta willing to give himself to Triel for Zandrath? Why?  
  
Dantrag didn't sleep that night. Whenever he closed his eyes he heard screams of pain and saw a scimitar reaching for his chest.  
  
Not so far away from Triel's private rooms, Zandrath also found no rest. He lay on his side, his head sinking into his pillow, brooding and shaking. His mind was too troubled to allow him to sleep.  
  
But, there was another reason for Zandrath's insomnia. From his room, the young drow could hear the cries of agony coming from Triel's chambers.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Lazuli shoved her equipment into a worn leather pack: Gloves, extra cloak, comb, pouches of coins, and spare weapons. She fastened her belt, complete with her throwing daggers and sabers. After checking to make certain that her enchanted earring and scarlet bandanna were in place, the young assassin slung the pack onto her back and headed for Jarlaxle's room.  
  
"I'm ready to go," she announced.  
  
"Entreri said to wait until he returns back before you leave," Jarlaxle countered. Lazuli stopped in the drow's doorway, a puzzled expression on her sharp face.  
  
"Where did he go?"  
  
"I know not," Jarlaxle shrugged. He sighed heavily and reclined. "I miss my chair," the drow complained, "but Artemis said to stay in bed."  
  
"Your sick," Lazuli reminded, "you should be sleeping rather than complaining."  
  
"Nonsense," Jarlaxle brushed aside the matter, "I can sleep after you leave."  
  
"Are you saying that I'm loud," the girl teased, dropping her bag on the floor and pulling up Jarlaxle's swivel chair.  
  
"Not at all," Jarlaxle laughed, "but once you leave, it will be so quiet around here." Lazuli smiled at his jest. "Entreri is silent we he walks and he only talks to me when he's either lecturing or threatening."  
  
"You talk enough for the both of you," Lazuli remarked. It was Jarlaxle's turn to grin. Lazuli suddenly stopped smiling and her tone grew serious, " Jarlaxle, I have to ask you something."  
  
Jarlaxle copied her manner, "And what would that be?"  
  
"About what happened a few weeks ago," Lazuli started, her speech was faltering, "what if..." She could not bear to voice the fear. Jarlaxle sensed her uneasiness and clasped her hand.  
  
"Everything will be all right, Lazuli," he assured strongly, "you'll see." Somehow, his words were comforting to Lazuli. She wiped the rising tears from her eyes and smiled.  
  
The sound of a closing door announced Entreri's return.  
  
"Father's back," Lazuli observed.  
  
"I've booked passage north for you, Lazuli," the old assassin notified when he entered the room, "I pulled some strings with an old associate and they've agreed to take you as far as the Sea of Moving Ice. From there it's an easy trek to Icewind Dale."  
  
"Once there I speak with the dwarves and ask for someone by the name of Seralon," Lazuli recited, "I will not forget."  
  
"Please don't," Jarlaxle pretended to beg, causing the Entreris to grin.  
  
"The ship you're to sail on is called Bone Ghost," Artemis continued, " she departs at dawn." Lazuli nodded. "They will take you to their secret port. After that, you will meet a woman named Seivriel Versail, she will take you to the Sea of Moving Ice and point you toward Ten Towns. The rest of the journey you will have to make alone."  
  
"I can do it," Lazuli resolved, standing tall, "I shall not fail."  
  
"Dawn approaches," Jarlaxle notified, "we should be on our way to the docks." Both assassins gave him skeptic looks. "You don't think I'll be content to stay in bed while Lazuli leaves do you?" Artemis and Lazuli sighed and shook their heads slowly. They both knew it would be futile to try and make Jarlaxle stay behind.  
  
It took little time to reach the docks, even with Jarlaxle having to stop several times to regain his balance. Entreri thought it foolish to allow Jarlaxle to stumble about the streets practically waving a sign saying, 'I'm sick so I won't be able to defend myself!' Not that the old assassin was at all worried; Jarlaxle had a knack for getting out of trouble with little or no effort. Still, what would the Night Eyes do if they knew? Nevertheless, the trio reached the docks without incident.  
  
Eleanor Calicol was waiting for them at the end of the pier, perched at the bottom of the gang-plank with her arms on her knees and her head on her arms.  
  
"So speedily," the complex pirate questioned, dropping her head to one side, "sail we don't 'til comes the dawn."  
  
"And fast approaching is the dawn," Lazuli countered, mimicking the pirate's unusual sentence structure.  
  
"True that be," Eleanor admitted, "come you aboard if so wish you do." The pirate stood and sauntered up the plank and onto the deck.  
  
Jarlaxle buried Lazuli in a playful, but gloomy, hug. The drow whispered something into her ear that Entreri didn't catch, then he released her. Lazuli gave him a warm, sad smile before turning to her father.  
  
Entreri put a hand on his daughter's shoulder. There were so many things he felt he should say to her; be careful around the pirates, don't lean too far over the rails of the ships, don't hurt herself trying to do a job she wasn't fit for. However, none of those phrases made it to his mouth. He could only pull her into a tight embrace and wish with all his heart that she would return safely.  
  
"Don't worry about me, Father," Lazuli assured, inhaling sharply through her nose, "I'll be fine."  
  
"I know you will," Artemis agreed, letting her go, "and I know you will make me proud."  
  
The sun broke over the edge of the horizon, bathing the trio in its new light. Lazuli backed onto the plank, her hand still gripping Entreri's. A woeful expression came over her fair face as she was forced to let go of her father's hand.  
  
The order to loose the sails was heard and the pirate vessel pushed off and rode away on the morning tide. Lazuli ran to the stern so that she could watch Jarlaxle and Entreri as they faded from her sight.  
  
"I will save Jarlaxle and make Father proud..."  
  
To be continued...  
  
AN: (cracks neck) Well that chapter didn't take very long to write. This chapter ends Part One. The next chapter is another journal entry/essay and then the story itself will continue. Also I'm coming out with a new comedy called Lord of the Crystal Shard. And for those wondering, I am still writing The Halloweenies, a new chapter is going up very soon.  
  
For a future note the internet connection at my house has been terminated, so now I have to log on at school t post my work or do it at a friends house (Thank Meilikki for floppy disks) So updates from now until we get our internet back will be a bit slow. Thank you for your patience.  
  
~Semdai Bloodquill 


	7. Part 2 : Daughters and Sons

Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Part Two: Daughters and Sons  
  
The future is a mysterious thing, presumably explained in two theories. One theory favoring choice, the other siding with fate. The concept of fate is that no matter what you do or whatever choices you make, your life has already been preordained by some deity or supreme power or anything fitting in that class. Choice favors the power of beings choosing their own destinies.  
  
The way I see it, there are those, people who believe in fate, who think that everything happens for a reason. Nothing happens by accident, the genocide displayed in the ancient times against the dragon elves was inevitable, the drow elves were meant to be driven into the Underdark by their light skinned cousins, I was meant to lose my eye to my wicked twin and even more wicked mother. I see that as a veil, a veil that gives the mind a reassurance that there was nothing we could have done to stop the awful things that happen everyday. It's a sense of security, a dog for the blind whose bark is a voice saying, "there was nothing you could have done." (A phrase that for me only promotes the guilty or hopeless feelings) It ties with religion in the sense of giving the idea of a greater purpose beyond the here and now.  
  
Choice is a belief for those who can't, or won't, except the idea that they are not in control of there own lives. The light elves slaughtered the dragon elves and drove my people into the Underdark of their own free will, I could have avoided the loss of my eye had I been more alert and careful. I saw much of this belief during my years at Tier Breche, the Academy. There I watched my classmates (my twin brother among them) tell themselves time and time again that they would be the head of the class. They were (and many still are) convinced that if they are smart enough, they shall come out on top. I still wonder why I finished at the top of my class when I had no desire to do so while so many others did.  
  
There is also a third belief. One much more commonly recognized by reasoning beings. That is the theory of Cause and Effect. I find myself comfortable with this third belief for it ties the other two together in a way. If I insult my Matron, I will be beaten (proven by experience). If I cut myself, I will bleed (also proved by experience). If I throw a torch into a spider nest, I will have to run very quickly in order to get away from the rushing mob of angry females (perhaps I should not try to test this example). This belief relies of the word 'IF' heavily. The outcome in question doesn't have to come to pass but IF the proper instigation takes place then it will happen. It seems perfectly logical. If I DID throw a torch into a spider nest, I WOULD have to run VERY quickly.  
  
I look out at Menzoberranzan, the city of my birth, and see both Fate and Choice, yet I cannot see any other than myself and my father who embody Cause and Effect. The songs praising Lloth, the merciless Queen of Spiders, resonate with the teachings of Fate. All is done for the glory of Lloth. The female half of my race readily embraces such concepts. Such hidden lies.  
  
Among the fighters of this city I see how bent upon personal glory and achievement my people are. Young males who polish the statues in the family chapels for hours on end to escape being beaten. Weapon Masters who trained for years to attain their titles and skills. But nowhere is such a concept as Choice more deeply embraced than the training grounds of Melee- Magthere, the school of fighters. That place is truly the breeding grounds for Choice. There I saw drow who could have conquered the city had they only learned to work together fall to the greed that eventually consumes almost all of my people. Such sadness it brought to my heavy heart.  
  
Perhaps it was such feelings that first allowed me to intentionally open my skin with my own blades. Despair is a powerful force when it touches the few drow who see outside the delusions of the Spider Queen. So it was with myself. I was not strong enough to slay myself then (as most drow with my beliefs have) and I doubt I could do it even now (though my life has only become more bleak); therefor, I resorted to cutting myself. Somehow, it gave me some control over my own suffering or perhaps it only made me think so. I could increase my pain if I chose. If only I could have reduced it as well. If only I could slow myself down enough to clearly see where I am going.  
  
Though I am still quite young in terms of the age expectations of my race, I feel much older than my thirty-four years. Perhaps I think too much for my station. After all, I am but a worthless male in the eyes of the Spider Queen, what right have I to challenge such principles as Fate and Choice? Even the priestesses of Lloth may not harbor such thoughts, why should I, a mere male, be permitted such blasphemous concepts? My native language has a phrase for those like myself, repeated for centuries untold since we were first driven into the Underdark. The phrase is 'Quenshin ful biazz coppon quangolth cree a drow.' In the tongue of the surface dwellers this phrase means, 'Doomed are those who believe they understand the designs of the drow.' Perhaps I try too hard to understand the world around me. Perhaps I am just a captured pawn clinging to the chess board.  
  
Whatever the belief may be, Fate or Choice or Cause and Effect, I care not. For I truly have nothing to gain from either beliefs. I have only my hope that one day I will gather the audacity to abandon this awful city and walk into the light of the sun. And when the light elves drive a sword through my heart because of my white hair and black skin, I will sing a denouncement of Lloth with my last breath and rejoice that I fled the darkness that is the world of my kin.  
  
- Zandrath Baenre 


	8. 6 Water and Smoke

Disclaimer : (stretches) Ah, yes, once again I find myself sitting at the computer in the absence of parental units attempting to conjure mystifying text that will baffle and entertain the readers. Someone please let me know when I succeed so I can stop writing long and pleading letters to RAS begging for ownership of the characters. (dramatically) I now give you, Mirror Me Dark Chapter Six, featuring my newest creations, the Gloomwood (and ALL its inhabitants), the elf twins, Zerial and Tanarial, and Cain, the Commander of the Wolf Brigade.  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Six : Water and Smoke  
  
At first glance, it seemed just like any other forest. The wide variety of trees all racing for the sky. The sunlight streaking down through the canopy like heavenly shafts and flashing like lightning when insects and birds passed through them. However, calm and peaceful as it seemed, it was no ordinary forest. Something besides the customary wildlife inhabited Gloomwood.  
  
For one point, Gloomwood was near impossible to enter. The bordering trees grew so thickly and so closely together that one would have suspected them to have been purposefully shaped that way. It was also bordered on three sides by wide, deep ravines. The last side was nestled in the shadow of a high, steep cliff.  
  
Nearly impossible to penetrate. Not that anyone wanted to try. The surrounding villages all avoided the wood. Children were warned never to venture to close. Hunters refused to set their traps near the trees. Even traveling elves and druids didn't dare to set foot in the shadows of the ancient trees. Many villagers swore that the forest was haunted by banshees and other vengeful spirits. Others claimed it was a nesting ground for harpies and other such foul creatures.  
  
In the deep winter, the howls of great canines could be heard drifting up from the forest. On warm summer nights, strange music floated across the wood and chilled any and all listeners.  
  
Of course it was such stories and legends that had first amazed Zerial and Tanarial and tempted the adventurous, young Gold Elves out of the safety of their home and into the wilds. At almost three hundred years old, the twins had already explored most of Toril's lands. Seeing Gloomwood was their lifelong dream. A dream close to fruition.  
  
"We're tellin ya, lads," the old elder insisted, "don't go inta that wood. It's got things that only belong in a child's nightmares livin in it."  
  
"We'll take our chances," Zerial countered politely, "we appreciate the warning but we must go there." Tanarial patted the elder on the shoulder.  
  
"My brother and I are skilled in many forms of combat and we will not venture far," the older twin assured, "thank you for your hospitality." Without another word, the two elves shifted their traveling packs and proceeded single file down the trail that would take them to Gloomwood.  
  
"Do you suppose we'll find a clue to the cure in this forest," Zerial asked once they were out of earshot of the village. Up ahead, Tanarial shrugged.  
  
"I hope so, but we can't even be sure what lies in that forest," the elf reasoned. Tanarial was always the more collected and calm of the brothers. His dark, brown eyes were passive and tender, often glazed over as he stared at the stars of the night sky or the waves of the rolling ocean.  
  
Zerial could be calm and quiet when he wanted or the situation called for it, but the younger of the brothers was an upstart. His heart belonged to the wilds and he was always out and about from the small hours before dawn until long after the twilight had descended.  
  
Crossing the ravines provided no contest for the experienced elves, the real challenge was finding a way into the secluded forest. Everywhere they looked, the pair could find no openings wider than a finger length. Feeling the hints of frustration blooming inside them, the brothers sat down facing the widest hole they had found.  
  
"How do you suppose the trees got that way," Zerial asked, nodding toward the closed forest.  
  
"Wood elves maybe," Tanarial suggested.  
  
"Possibly," Zerial agreed, "but why would they seal the forest off?"  
  
"Good point..." Tanarial scrutinized the barrier with his eyes, "do you think there's a password or something of that nature?"  
  
"That gives me an idea," Zerial declared. The elf hopped to his feet and rushed up to the closest tree. Placing his hands on the trunk, Zerial took a deep breath and said softly, "will you please let us through, Sir Tree?"  
  
The tree shook and creaked. With a great groan, the limbs of the ancient plant pulled back to reveal a path into the inner forest.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Dinin charged at him with unbelievable speed, his two swords weaving an impenetrable defense before him. Monty inhaled deeply and lifted his sabers. Dinin's first sword bit at the younger drow's belly while the second slashed at his shoulder. But Monty had long since moved well out of harm's reach. The agile, little elf threw himself backward so fast and violently that he was little more than a blur, rolling away from the advancing blades and leaping into the air, sailing right over Dinin's head and landing gracefully at the older fighter's back.  
  
' He truly is his father's son,' Dinin thought to himself as he whirled around block the sabers at his vulnerable back. Dwarven-made, mithril sabers rang against drow-made, adamantium swords. Realizing that Dinin would not be an easy opponent, Monty leapt back again. His lithe body crouched low, sabers in hand, wide, cloak-like garments flared out around him. His purple eyes burned holes in Dinin's defenses.  
  
' This child is the grandson of Zaknafein,' Dinin reminded himself, ' such grace and prowess should be expected from one of his bloodline.'  
  
"But my temperament is hardly suited to that of a drow," Monty countered, easily reading Dinin's thoughts. Dinin wasn't bothered by the maneuver. It had been almost a week since they had rescued him and was used to the strange habits and hobbies of his new family. Monty and Nessa could read his thoughts. Binx delighted in appearing behind him out of nowhere. Drizzt of course nearly talked his ears off every chance he got. And Sordath... Sordath was the odd ball of odd balls. He was the most fluent in Deep Drow (with the exception of Drizzt and Dinin) and would occasionally walk aimlessly down corridors murmuring things rapidly in the dark elf language. The youngest Do'Urden reminded Dinin of Zaknafein.  
  
Monty stayed in his crouch for several seconds, his breathing slightly heavy.  
  
"Yes, hardly," Dinin agreed, returning from his thoughts, "but you are still the descendant of the finest Weapon Master ever to walk Menzoberranzan." The older drow twirled his sword before carefully stalking toward his nephew.  
  
"And do you wish to challenge that resume, Uncle Dinin," Monty teased, standing upright and dipping into a mock bow.  
  
"Against such a agile opponent I fear I would lose badly," Dinin declined, putting away his swords, "you are young and full of energy. Me," he shrugged, "I'm just not as quick as I used to be. I think all those years as a drider slowed me down." Monty became suddenly solemn.  
  
"What was it like," he asked tentatively, "being a drider?" Dinin glared at Monty for a few seconds before turning away.  
  
"I don't wanna talk about it," he stated flatly.  
  
Monty held up his hands, loosely holding his sabers, in surrender. He took a step back and bowed slightly. "Just curious," he explained.  
  
"Trust me," Dinin assured, "you don't ever want to know what being a drider is like."  
  
"I just want to understand my native race," Monty said defensively.  
  
"Quenshin ful biazz coppon quangolth cree a drow," Dinin warned, his ruby eyes and tone serious, "remember that always, Son of Daermon Nashezbaernon."  
  
Several moments of poignant silence passed between Dinin and Montolio before either regained his voice. Montolio felt his chest begin to ache for the second time that day.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
The screams resonated in his ears, rattled his thoughts, constricted his throat. He wanted those awful cries to cease, but they wouldn't.  
  
Clutching his ears in panic he bolted upright out of his nightmare, nearly throwing himself from his bed as he did so.  
  
"Father!" He screamed frantically.  
  
Dagasta stood, or rather leaned, in his doorway. Beaten and bloody, chest heaving from exhaustion, and naked from the waist up, the patron gripped the door frame for support as his legs nearly gave out.  
  
"My son," he gasped, reaching toward his golden-eyed boy. He never made it. The wounded patron collapsed, his energy gone. "My... dear... son..." His words came out as a wheeze.  
  
"Father," Zandrath howled.  
  
A bright flash and a sudden thump roused the young drow from his dreams. His head felt as though it were split in two. Dantrag stood over him, a makeshift club held slack in his left hand, his angular face sporting a simple expression.  
  
"You woke me with your absurd dreams again," Dantrag accused.  
  
"Sorry," Zandrath apologized halfheartedly, "I had that nightmare again."  
  
"Obviously," Dantrag stated sarcastically.  
  
"Well how would you feel if your father stumbled into your room all bloody and near death," Zandrath snapped, his single, golden eye glaring at his uncle.  
  
Dantrag shrugged, "I never knew my father, he was given to Lloth when my mother learned that I would be a male. It's not like I ever had any fatherly figure like you have." Zandrath's tone and face softened.  
  
"He died just because you were born a male," the young drow repeated, " you know what?"  
  
"No, what," Dantrag snapped.  
  
"Our society is really screwed up," Zandrath pointed out sadly.  
  
"And when did you notice this," Dantrag questioned, retaining his acidic tone.  
  
"We are indeed a powerful race," Zandrath continued, ignoring Dantrag's sarcasm, "but we could be so much more powerful if males were allowed to rise alongside the females. We are wasting half of our population by making males little more than slaves." Dantrag listened to Zandrath intently. "And Lloth needs to be brought down," Zandrath rose from his bed and leaned on one arm against the wall as he spoke, "what good is a goddess that will damn you in the long run anyway? This plague that's running through our cities, I think it's a sign that we're gonna die out soon."  
  
Dantrag remembered vividly the disease. He'd seen Baenre soldiers collapse, choking and retching up great gushes of blood. Commoners so wasted that they could no longer even open their rotted eyes. Mages who died suffering because their organs had dissolved. Even priestesses suffocating because their lungs were so full of blood that they could no longer breathe.  
  
"Nobody can escape it," Zandrath said sullenly, "not even Lloth's highest priestesses can so much as slow its effects." The young drow leaned heavily against the wall and was silent for several seconds. After a time, he straightened and slipped his tunic on over his bare chest. "I'm going to see my father," he declared, striding swiftly from the room, "maybe you don't care about yours but I'm not like you."  
  
"No," Dantrag agreed when the younger fighter was out of earshot, "you're not like me, Zandrath. You try to understand what cannot be understood. Me, I just don't care," Dantrag put a hand to his chest and felt the still open wound, "you also shouldn't be dead right now."  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Out Haven was like no place Lazuli had ever seen. Like any other port city, Out Haven was swarming with merchants, but the entire city was a black market. Anything could be bought in Out Haven from slaves to exotic pets and back again. There were brothels on nearly every corner and merchant stands lining every street. It reminded Lazuli of Calimport.  
  
"Almost like home," her escort commented, his eyes scanning the urban scenery.  
  
"Almost," Lazuli agreed, "when do I meet Seivriel?"  
  
"When we get there," the guide Eleanor had assigned to the young assassin pointed to a high bluff that appeared to have a fortress carved into it. Towers and balconies decorated the palace-like structure and all manor of winged creatures circled overhead.  
  
"What is that place?" Lazuli shaded her eyes and squinted, she was sure she had just seen a drake or a small dragon pass over the palace.  
  
"That is the Ebony Manor," the guide explained, "the central headquarters of Commodore Dead Girl."  
  
An eerie howl preceded a great Winter Wolf as it charged through the gates of Ebony Manor and bounded toward them. The wolf stopped before Lazuli and her escort, its icy breath coming in pants and its wicked, yellow eyes staring expectedly at Lazuli. There was a strange sort of saddle on the wolf's back, perhaps meant for a rider, and a strip of black leather bearing the crest of Seivriel Versail around its neck.  
  
"You are the assassin Lazuli Entreri," the wolf demanded in a deep, throaty voice.  
  
"I am," Lazuli admitted boldly.  
  
"You are to accompany me to see my Mistress," the wolf notified, kneeling down on his front paws to allow Lazuli to climb onto his back, "we are to depart immediately. My Mistress is expecting you."  
  
"I will leave you in the captain's care then," the pirate guide notified, bowing and vanishing in a puff of gray smoke.  
  
"Captain," Lazuli questioned skeptically, eyeing the wolf.  
  
"I am Cain, Out Haven's Captain of the Guard and the Commander of the Wolf Brigade," the wolf proclaimed, "this city is ever under the care of myself and my soldiers. Now if you would be so kind, milady, we must be going."  
  
Boldly, Lazuli stepped forward and vaulted onto Cain's back. She settled on top of his shoulders and fastened the saddle straps. With a loud, commanding howl, Cain bolted down the street. Left and right, the civilians rushed to the sides to clear the great wolf's path.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Triel knelt before her personal alter, praying furiously to the Spider Queen. Patience had never been one of her virtues and the ever ambitious matron was anxious as to the sex of her newly conceived child.  
  
The unruly female was truly surprised. She had known many mates in her life but Dagasta had surprised her that night, exactly one week ago. Not only had he actually pleasured her during the process, something few males had ever done, but he had somehow survived the act, something even fewer had done.  
  
The strange male puzzled Triel. Many times she had consulted denizens of the lower planes as to the male's past, every time her minions were unable to see more than his present. She knew that Dagasta was a rogue with no family left and that he had been the Weapon Master of is previous house before its fall.  
  
When she delved into his mind, or rather tried to, his thoughts and memories were utterly closed to her prying eyes. Almost as if he knew she was looking and had deleted the information. He never ceased to astound her. His unique, two-toned eyes, his never faltering grace, his audacity to push at the limits of his station. Truly he was one of a kind.  
  
Realizing that her thoughts had gone astray, Triel hastily returned to the questioned being presented to the Spider Queen. Dagasta would come later.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Under the trees, Gloomwood was well-named. What little light that filtered down through the thick canopy was lost in the twisting, churning shadows of the great trees. In addition, every turn seemed identical to the previous one. Naturally after an hour of wandering, the twins were quite lost.  
  
But never being the panicking types, the two elves did their best to remain calm. In fact, they were trying so hard to remain calm that they failed to notice the dark shape tailing them.  
  
"I think we've passed this tree before," Zerial stated glumly, leaning against an old, ash tree. Tanarial sat down heavily and motioned for his brother to do the same.  
  
"Let's think," Tanarial reasoned, "the forest is bordered on the north by cliffs and on all three other sides by ravines. Theoretically, if we continue to walk in a straight direction we will eventually reach one of these boundaries. From there we can circle the border of the forest until we find a way out."  
  
"Good plan," Zerial agreed, "it just has one problem."  
  
"What's that," Tanarial asked.  
  
"I think we're being watched."  
  
The brothers both perked up their ears and listened intently for any sign of life other than their own. With their keen eyes, they scanned the forest around them, eventually stopping on a particularly tall ash tree about ten meters away. Carefully, Zerial took out his longbow and strung it. Knocking an arrow and taking aim at the tree, the elf let his missile fly.  
  
There was a startled cry and a thud as something humanoid fell from the tree and landed hard on the ground below. Tentatively the pair stalked over to the fallen figure, Tanarial now readying his own bow.  
  
"Be you alive give us sign of peace or we will shoot," Zerial warned, taking aim once again.  
  
With a slight whimper, the figure manage to raise himself up on his elbows. The second his dark eyes saw the pair of Gold elves advancing on him, he laid his head down and said in a sad, melodic voice, "If your intent is to kill me then I beg of you to do so without delay."  
  
"What are you," Zerial gasped.  
  
The being seemed like an elf but his skin was a golden, bronze color and his hair and eyes were jet black. He lay face down with his forehead touching the ground and his slender chest heaving, as if in pain or exhaustion.  
  
"My name is Spinalo," the being said slowly, "I am a scout and servant of the Queen of Gloomwood." Zerial lowered his bow.  
  
"I'm sorry if I hurt you, Spinalo," he apologized, "I'm Zerial and this is my brother, Tanarial." Zerial knelt next to Spinalo and helped the fallen elf to a sitting position.  
  
"Glad I am to meet you, Zerial and Tanarial," Spinalo panted, "I apologize for startling you earlier, but it is my duty to investigate intruders of the Gloomwood."  
  
"We're a bit lost actually," Tanarial admitted, "could you perhaps show us the way out?"  
  
"Not with out the Queen's permission," Spinalo shook his head slowly, " once you enter this forest you cannot leave without first asking her. Even the reasoning inhabitants may not venture beyond the borders without her leave. And I fear I could not show you anyway."  
  
"Why not," Zerial questioned.  
  
"It would seem that I was considerably higher up than the last time I fell out of a tree," Spinalo winced painfully as he touched his side. Gingerly, Spinalo lifted the edge of his dark green tunic, sure enough, his ribs were already showing signs of major bruising.  
  
"I'm so sorry," Zerial apologized again, "if I'd known you weren't an enemy..." Spinalo waved his slender hand passively.  
  
"The fault is equally mine," he assured, "but the time is drawing near for me to report back to the palace and I must ask that you accompany me there peacefully."  
  
"How will we get there wit you hurt like this," Tanarial questioned. Spinalo smiled and closed his eyes for a moment. He inhaled deeply and blew a long, high whistle. When he reopened his eyes the sound of rustling feathers was approaching. Seemingly out of nowhere, a raven landed on Spinalo's knee and cawed expectantly.  
  
Spinalo leaned forward and whispered something in the raven's ear. With a deep caw the bird took flight again and disappeared.  
  
"Fei says he will return shortly with mounts," Spinalo notified. The brothers were stunned.  
  
"You can speak to animals," Zerial gasped.  
  
"Are you a Druid," Tanarial asked.  
  
"Hardly," Spinalo laughed, "I was born and raised in this wood as was most of my people and we are all able to communicate with the inhabitants of our forest."  
  
"You're a Drandil," Tanarial realized, wonder in his voice, "one of the lost Dragon Elves."  
  
"You really think so," Spinalo questioned slyly.  
  
"You look like an elf but elves do not have brown skin and black eyes," Tanarial continued, "you speak with animals as fluently as you speak Common Tongue. What else could you be?"  
  
"A ranger who has seen a lot of sun," Spinalo suggested.  
  
"I believe my brother is right," Zerial joined, "the reason Gloomwood is impenetrable is because it's a Drandil forest, the reason no one can leave once they enter is because you have to stay hidden."  
  
"And do you know WHY we have to hide," Spinalo asked, his face and tone turning dark.  
  
"The old elves say that the drandil are allies of the drow and wielders of evil magic," Tanarial stated blankly. Spinalo's black eyes softened and his brown furrowed with sadness. He hugged his knees and laid his head against his thin arms.  
  
"So much hatred our lighter cousins bore for us," Spinalo sighed, "so much anger, so much contempt, so many misplaced feelings." The dragon elf gave a heavily sigh and turned to Tanarial, his slender throat bared. "If you bear the same hatred for my kind then I will hold against you no ill feelings if you wish to cut my throat."  
  
"Why would I want to cut you throat, Spinalo," Tanarial gasped, "you've done nothing to me or Zerial worth dying over!" Spinalo sank back against the tree.  
  
"If only your ancestors were as wise as you and your brother," he lamented, "so many of my people were murdered at the hands of angry light elves that we almost died out," a tear slipped down Spinalo's gaunt cheek, "and we could not even defend ourselves against our cousins."  
  
"Why not," Zerial asked gently, scooting closer to the dragon elf.  
  
"Drandil cherish life above all things," Spinalo explained, "for a drandil to take a life in anger or vengeance or even in defense taints that drandil's blood. When innocent drandil are killed for unjust reasons their blood forever stains the hands of their killers." Spinalo inhaled deeply and gripped his bruised side. "Most drandil would rather give up their lives than taint the blood of their offspring."  
  
The cawing of the returning Fei shook the trio out of their trance. Four Winter Wolves stood before them, each one mounted by a dragon elf in scale armor and with blades at ready.  
  
"Are you all right, Spinalo," the leader growled, keeping her black eyes on Zerial and Tanarial. Her mount, an enormous wolf still wearing its summer coat, snarled in its throat.  
  
"A bit bruised but not badly injured, Aires," Spinalo returned, getting to his feet, "allow me to introduce Tanarial and Zerial. Cousins who are lost in our wood and require the guidance of the Queen." Aires snorted through her sharp nose, but motioned for the other three members of her group that the two Golds would accompany them.  
  
"Mount quick and hold tight," she snapped, "if you fall off, you'll have to wander the forest until you die of starvation or another patrol takes you in, for we will not stop." Without another word, Aires turned and spurred her wolf north.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Zandrath touched his father's forehead, gently letting his thoughts travel through his fingers and into the unconscious patron's brain. Returned feelings of reassurance and comfort coursed up his arm and into his own thoughts. A smile crossed Zandrath's angular face. It was good to know the Dagasta was still with him.  
  
"What are you doing here," Antioch's cold voice snarled from the doorway.  
  
"I could ask you the same question," Zandrath countered tonelessly, "but I don't care."  
  
"You are pathetic," Antioch spat, stalking into the room and circling his brother like a vulture over a carcass, "you hang around him like you want so badly for him to wake up."  
  
"Maybe I am and maybe I do," Zandrath returned, "but what you think doesn't matter to me. I see you to be as blind as the rest of this city as to the true potential of the drow race."  
  
"Spoken like a true son of mine," Triel commented from the doorway. Instinctively, the brothers knelt with bowed heads before their matron. " I have made many decisions regarding the two of you." Triel paused as if daring her sons to speak. When they both remained silent, she continued, " you both knew I have conceived recently and I have asked Lolth for an answer regarding the child's sex." Zandrath held his breath. "The Spider Queen says the child will be female. For that I will keep my word and return this to you, Zandrath," Triel held out her hand and dropped a golden- colored eye at Zandrath's feet. The drow male did not move to pick it up. "Do you not wish for the return of your eye," Triel asked slyly.  
  
"I would not wish to take it without permission, my Matron," Zandrath answered without lifting his head.  
  
"Take back your eye my son and rise up as House Baenre's Patrol Commander," Triel ordered, grinning to herself, "Antioch, you have been called upon to serve as a Master at the Academy. You leave at the next rising of Narbondel's light."  
  
"With all due respect, Matron," Antioch protested, "Zandrath ranked higher than myself in our class, would he not be a better candidate as Master?"  
  
"Indeed, the Academy wanted Zandrath," Triel admitted, "but I require his skills here for my plans. Plans that only he seems fit to perform." Triel spun on her heel and departed as quickly as she had come. Zandrath scooped up his eyeball and held it in his hand for a moment, staring into the iris of his own eye.  
  
Antioch started to say something, but Zandrath, who naturally was not interested, was already out the door and halfway down the corridor before the hotheaded drow could fully think up a sentence. Fuming with rage, Antioch glared at Dagasta's sleeping form.  
  
"What did you give him that you denied me," he hissed.  
  
To be continued...  
  
AN : Damn writers block. Dam restrictions on computers time. Grrr. Oh well... (sigh) 


	9. 7 The Cat and the Wolf

Disclaimer : It's good to have one's priorities in order. I should try it sometime. Between all this author work and school work (I wonder if spying on people in the school courtyard counts?) and house work, it might be nice to know my priorities. Of course there would be no fun if everything was organized. Well, at least disclaimers don't have to be organized. Everyone already knows that my pathetic writing could never stand up to RAS's glorious works.  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Seven : The Cat and the Wolf  
  
Nessa listened intently to her son's erratic pulse.  
  
"Inhale," she directed, keeping her ear to his chest. Monty did as he was told and took a deep breath, a breath that echoed heavily in his pained lungs. "Again, slower this time," Nessa requested. Monty obeyed again. Nessa's concern grew.  
  
"What's wrong with me, Mom," Monty wheezed.  
  
"I don't know, Monty," Nessa sighed, "all I can say is you should rest until we can figure out this illness." Monty sighed heavily and laid himself down on his back.  
  
"It hurts when I breathe," Monty moaned, "like I'm inhaling in freezing air." Nessa sat by her son's side and kept a comforting watch over him until he fell into a deep, slumber. Normally, elves did not sleep but rather slipped into their thoughts and memories. Only severe injuries or dire illness forced an elf to actually sleep.  
  
"How is he," a woman's voice asked from the doorway.  
  
"Very sick, Miss Catti," Nessa replied, "I don't know the illness, but the spirits have been speaking of a mysterious sickness that kills only those of elven blood."  
  
Catti-brie scoffed. She didn't like Nessa and refused to believe the drow female's claims that she could communicate with spirits. Still, Nessa had an uncanny ability to know more than she should about things that didn't concern her. Catti-brie thoroughly disliked the drow female and found it hard to feel sorry for her regarding Monty's illness.  
  
"Do you hate me, Miss Catti," Nessa asked suddenly.  
  
Catti-brie had to think. Did she really hate Nessa? She disliked her thoroughly, but would it make her happy to see Nessa hurt or sad? Was she jealous because Drizzt had chosen Nessa over her? "No," she stated flatly. Nessa scrutinized her with her unnerving, cat-like eyes.  
  
"I can tell when you're lying," Nessa reminded, "maybe not strongly, but some part of you does hate me." Nessa drew a symbol in the air between herself and Catti-brie. Her long fingers waved and twisted as she added more symbols to the first. The atmosphere darkened considerably and Catti- brie felt her skin begin to itch.  
  
"What are you doing," Catti-brie demanded fearfully. Nessa's eyes began to change color, from golden yellow to fiery orange to blood red.  
  
"When," Nessa asked in a daze, taking no notice of Catti-brie's question. Suddenly the darkness lifted and Nessa's eyes reverted back to yellow. The drow put a hand to her forehead and massaged her temples. "That was unexpected," she remarked.  
  
"What was that," Catti-brie demanded strongly.  
  
"My brother was probing at my mind," Nessa explained, "he's coming here."  
  
Catti-brie groaned. She despised Nessa's brother whole-heartedly. Unable to stand Nessa's company any longer, Catti-brie turned on her heel and stormed out of the room.  
  
'My, isn't she foul tempered,' a male voice in Nessa's left ear commented.  
  
'She hates us,' Nessa replied.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
True to her word, Aires refused to slow or stop her patrol. The winter wolves seemed accustomed to the patrol leader's pace because they never once complained.  
  
Aires was too absorbed in her own thoughts to notice anything anyway. She was thinking long and hard about herself. She held very few things in distaste, but when it came to light elves Aires carried little love for her pale cousins. She was not alone in her dim opinion of light elves. Most all drandil shied from their lighter cousins, their long memories not quite ready to forgive the slaughter wreaked upon them in the ancient times.  
  
As a whole, Aires was very kind-hearted and generous although not very trusting. Aires was a born leader, quick of mind, open to others, and fair in her judgments. By elven standards, she was not incredible beautiful. Her black eyes were large and subtly slanted, her muscles were well formed even though she was rather scrawny. Her skin was a darker bronze than most drandil and scarred from a life lived outside the protection of the city they were fast approaching.  
  
The sentries of the hidden city passed the word of Aires's return at remarkable speed. So fast that the gate-keepers were waiting for them for several minutes.  
  
"Well met, Aires Whitetalon," the gate-master greeted, saluting Aires as she pulled rein before the gates, "what have you seen beyond the Silver City?"  
  
"Well met to you as well, Erian Nightwake. I bring two Gold elves wandering where they shouldn't," Aires replied dejectedly, "Spinalo found them and wishes to take them before Her Majesty." Erian's expression saddened.  
  
"Who shall take responsibility for the Golds," he asked of the patrol group.  
  
Spinalo slid from the back of the wolf he had been riding and stepped forward. "I will shoulder the responsibility of Zerial and Tanarial's presence." The twins exchanged surprised looks.  
  
"So be it then, Spinalo Blackfeather," Erian decreed, "the Golds will remain as your family's guests until the Queen decides otherwise." Erian levitated himself to the parapets and opened the gate for the patrol.  
  
"Pray well meetings again, Erian," Spinalo thanked as he passed between the gates with the rest of the patrol and he twins.  
  
"Pray well meetings again," Erian returned, closing the gate behind them.  
  
The patrol dismounted and the three other wolf riders led their mounts away. Aires spoke something to Spinalo in a strange and rapid language that the twins could not begin to decipher before she and her mount also departed. Spinalo smiled widely at the twins.  
  
"My home lies on the fringe of the city and it may be a long walk depending on the other drandil' reactions," Spinalo notified, "it's been a long time since a light elf has visited the Silver City."  
  
"Why'd you volunteer to take us in," Tanarial questioned.  
  
"You were kind to me when I fell from the tree," Spinalo explained, "and you refused to cut my throat when I offered it, therefor I should try to repay your kindness."  
  
"But we caused you to fall out of the tree," Zerial reminded, his tone light and merry. Spinalo smiled happily and led the way into the drandil city.  
  
"Welcome to Argentium, the Silver City," the dragon elf declared proudly.  
  
Truly, Argentium was beautiful and, like the surrounding woods, well named. The city was located not only on the ground but also extending high into the trees, which were colossal and as white as snow from their trunks to their leaves. Buildings made of marble and limestone surrounded the bases of the great trees and lined the roads, which were paved with smoothed marble. The structures were built in every style known to the twins and in several that weren't. Walkways and staircases circled up the trees and ended in twisting spiraling bridges leading to more trees and more walkways. Dwellings of stone and wood were built into the tree tops as houses.  
  
On the northern edge of the city, a sheer wall of rock rose up from the ground. It too was adorned by walkways, balconies, and staircases galore. Huge gaping cavern mouths occupied the higher regions of the cliff, where all manner of winged creatures were entering and exiting.  
  
Though the city was populated by no more than about six or seven hundred elves, it seemed as if to hold three times that number. Elves bustled about the ground buildings and scurried across the wide arches at ridiculous speeds, all of them seeming to need to be somewhere else.  
  
The place had a warm, peaceful aura to it. It reminded the twins of far away Silverymoon, a place they both thoroughly enjoyed.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Seivriel flopped down on her heavily cushioned couch, which was made entirely of pillows. She settled herself and even allowed the litter of wolf pups she had taken in to make themselves comfortable beside and on top of her. One of the pups, a black and red fellow named Lucifer, laid down on her chest and howled happily.  
  
"Milady, Cain has returned," one of the door guards notified.  
  
"Show him and the girl in," Seivriel ordered. A moment later the grand doors swung open and Cain strode in majestically, Lazuli still perched on his back. The winter wolf bowed his great head to Seivriel and allowed Lazuli to dismount. At the sight of Cain, Lucifer and his siblings charged at the larger wolf, howling with delight. Cain licked each puppy in turn and sent them back to Seivriel, where they once again arranged themselves around her. Lucifer reclaimed his place atop Seivriel's chest.  
  
"I take my leave, Mistress," Cain announced respectfully before he departed, growling at the door guards as he did so.  
  
"So you are the daughter of the renowned Artemis Entreri," Seivriel started, "pray tell me, how fares he?"  
  
"Well in most all aspects," Lazuli shrugged.  
  
"And how fares the drow, Jarlaxle?"  
  
"Not well I'm afraid," Lazuli said slowly.  
  
"Come closer, Child," Seivriel beckoned, "don't be shy." Lazuli did as she was told. "Sit if you like," Seivriel offered, gesturing toward the wide array of cushions and pillows. Lazuli sat boldly on the soft pillow directly across from Seivriel. Lucifer leapt from his perch and clambered into Lazuli's lap. Standing up on his hind legs and placing his wide paws on Lazuli's belly, the wolf pup howled happily and wagged his bushy, little tail.  
  
Lazuli patted the puppy and rubbed his loose, baby coat of fur. He licked her hand and whined expectantly.  
  
"Lucifer likes you," Seivriel observed, "he wants you to pick him up. Please continue with your tale."  
  
"Jarlaxle is very sick," Lazuli stated, picking Lucifer up and letting him nestle into her chest, "it has been confirmed that Jarlaxle is sick with a plague currently ravaging the Underdark and the elven forests."  
  
"That is ill news indeed," Seivriel reflected, "Artemis did not tell me the full details of the situation. He only spoke of your need of a swift ride to Icewind Dale."  
  
"Jarlaxle is already entering the second of the four stages of the disease according to an associate's evaluation," Lazuli stated, "time is swiftly running out for him. Another three weeks and his body will be unable to fight the disease any longer."  
  
"Aruine Abitus," Seivriel acknowledged, "word of this plague has reached my ears and eyes. So Jarlaxle lies on his deathbed and the daughter of the king of assassins races to save him," the pirate leader paused, "has it really come to this so soon?"  
  
"I have a name," Lazuli said defensively, "it's Lazuli."  
  
"I know," Seivriel said calmly, "I helped name you." Lazuli was taken aback, but showed it not. Perhaps I will tell you the tale someday, but three weeks is not a long time and Icewind Dale is a long way from here."  
  
"You have the fastest ships on the Sword Coast," Lazuli exclaimed, "can't you get us there in time?"  
  
"The fastest of my ships could be there in ten days," Seivriel countered grimly. Lazuli's heart sank. "Which is why we will be traveling by air instead," the pirate leader added cheerfully. Lazuli looked up.  
  
"How," she demanded skeptically.  
  
"I have my ways," Seivriel replied, standing up and shooing the wolf pups away, "follow me."  
  
Lazuli did so, not having much other choice. Seivriel guided her swiftly into the high reaches of Ebony Manor, into the aviaries. They came to a small cave where a great black dragon was resting contentedly. Lazuli stared in awe at the beast. Jarlaxle had told her many stories of the dragons he had encountered in his life, all of them had been huge, ancient beasts of unsurpassed majesty. This black was no less lovely than the assassin had imagined a dragon would be.  
  
"Well met, Melkor," Seivriel greeted with a deep bow.  
  
"Greetings, Pirate Lady," Melkor returned, shifting his horned head and locking his penetrating gaze on Seivriel, "you bring a companion?"  
  
"Melkor, this is Lazuli Entreri," Seivriel introduced, "Lazuli, this is Melkor."  
  
"It is an honor, great dragon Melkor," Lazuli greeted, bowing deeply.  
  
"The pleasure is all mine, fair lady," Melkor crooned, coiling an uncoiling his tail as he spoke in his deep, mesmeric voice, "why do you call, Pirate Lady?"  
  
"To ask a favor," Seivriel stated, "a favor that only Melkor can grant."  
  
"What is this favor worth," the dragon inquired.  
  
"All the favor's plunder," the pirate promised.  
  
"Ask it then," Melkor shifted his powerful legs out from under his belly.  
  
"A swifter ride than any ship could give is needed greatly by myself and Lazuli," Seivriel explained. Melkor lifted his great head and stood proudly.  
  
"Am I to carry you as if I were a common pack animal," the dragon snorted indignantly.  
  
"Never a pack animal, dear Melkor," Seivriel assured, "it only occurred to me that you may wish to come and help raid a certain rival pirate's treasure horde on the way back." Lazuli understood perfectly. Seivriel was playing with Melkor, tempting him with the promise of treasures while asking for a service in return.  
  
If Melkor had possibly been an older dragon he would have (literally) acidly refused Seivriel's request. But Melkor was not old, and his horde was pathetically small, even for a young dragon. He would take whatever gold he could obtain.  
  
"Where are we going, when do we leave, and when must you arrive," Melkor asked slyly.  
  
Seivriel suppressed a wide grin as she replied, "Icewind Dale, immediately, and as soon as possible." Melkor thought for a moment.  
  
"I can reach Icewind Dale from here in a day and a half and I can leave whenever you wish," the black dragon reasoned.  
  
"We depart in half an hour then," Seivriel decided, "we will see you at the end of Cresant Street, Melkor." The dragon nodded his approval.  
  
Seivriel bowed and exited the cave. Lazuli followed suit and hurried after the pirate leader.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Reigaldus Seralon trekked steadily across the snow. Leaving no tracks or trail, the renegade drow was nearing the end of a long journey. Reigaldus was a orphan whose family had been destroyed for sacrilege against the Spider Queen. Ever a curious free-spirit, Reigaldus had declined the chance to join with any minor houses and had left Menzoberranzan to see the surface.  
  
Ahead loomed Bryn Shander, the center of activity in Ten Towns, the rogue drow's destination. The gate guards glared down at Reigaldus, untrusting of all strangers.  
  
"State your name and business," they demanded. Reigaldus grinned under a low cowl. For the rogue, this was a prime opportunity to cause some trouble. Reigaldus reached up slowly, brandishing the ebony skin that marked the drow race, and throw back the low cowl. The gate guards jumped in surprise.  
  
"A drow," one exclaimed.  
  
"Go away, devil," ordered another.  
  
"I am Reigaldus Seralon," Reigaldus boldly proclaimed, "I come seeking my sister and my brother-in-law."  
  
"Begone before we shoot you down, drow," the first guard commanded, taking aim at Reigaldus's chest. The other guards also trained their bows on the renegade.  
  
"Shoot if it will please you," Reigaldus shrugged slyly, "I care not."  
  
The first archer fired. The arrow should have pierced Reigaldus's heart and killed the stray drow immediately. But it didn't. The missile merely passed through Reigaldus's chest and lodged itself in the snow. In a panic, the other archers let fly their arrows to the same result.  
  
"What in the nine hells are you," the lead guard demanded fearfully.  
  
"Do that again, it tickles so pleasantly," Reigaldus teased, grinning from ear to pointed ear and showing fang-like canine teeth.  
  
"A vampire," one of the guards cried out. Reigaldus laughed and levitated up to the parapets, still grinning widely.  
  
"Not a vampire," the renegade corrected, floating so close to the leader that they could have shaken hands, "just a wandering trickster."  
  
"Go away," the leader screamed, slashing at Reigaldus with a slender sword at the same time the rogue relaxed the spell that had defeated the arrows. The drow reeled back sharply, putting a hand against a torn collarbone.  
  
"That's going to leave a scar," Reigaldus remarked in mock annoyance, " well since you wont let me in politely, I suppose I'll have to tell my big sister how nasty you were to me, then if I find the time I might come back and exact some petty revenge. Time permitting, you'll all be dead within a ten-day." With a wide grin, Reigaldus dissolved into a thin gray mist and disappeared.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Dagasta opened his eyes and groaned. His whole body ached fiercely. When he looked himself over, the patron found himself bearing a spiderweb of scars spread across his naked chest, streaked down his arms, and snaked over his tight stomach.  
  
"Triel must have had fun with you," Dantrag observed from the entrance.  
  
"More than you'll ever know," Dagasta added to the jest, "I just hope I'm still all in one piece."  
  
"Have you looked yet," Dantrag asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.  
  
"One second," Dagasta turned his back, also criss-crossed with scars, to Dantrag for a moment. Dantrag rolled his amber eyes and shook his head slowly. "Yep," Dagasta confirmed cheerfully, turning back around, "still all there." Dantrag sighed in disgust. "Mushroom stalk in the mud," Dagasta snorted distastefully, "you have no sense of humor at all."  
  
Dantrag glared at the patron with eyes fast turning red.  
  
"Mad Dantrag!" Dagasta pretended to panic, even went so far as to wave his arms in mock terror, "run for the surface! It's the mad Dantrag!"  
  
"You were almost ripped and torn apart and you're laughing like you just tripped over a stray rock," Dantrag exclaimed, his patience long flown out the window.  
  
"Does my light hearted view of life bother you," Dagasta asked stupidly.  
  
"No, I rather enjoyed it when you screamed 'Mad Dantrag' and waved your arms," Dantrag snorted cynically.  
  
"In that case, I'll do it again," Dagasta chirped, "Mad Dantrag! Mad Dantrag!"  
  
Dantrag glared harder although some deep part of him was glad to see the patron well again.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Drizzt and Dinin plowed through the deep snow and climbed up the steep trail of rocks. Along the way, Dinin practiced his Common Tongue.  
  
"Abbil," Drizzt prompted, hopping several feet to a higher rock.  
  
"Friend," Dinin translated, following his brother's lead.  
  
"Khales."  
  
"Trust."  
  
"Suuz'chok."  
  
"Tradition."  
  
"Sargtlin."  
  
"Warrior."  
  
"Excellent," Drizzt complimented in Deep Drow, "you'll be speaking Common in no time." They reached the top of the climb and Drizzt sat down on a large boulder. "This place is called Bruenor's Climb," he explained, "I come here to think, to look back and reflect on my life."  
  
"Are you ever sorry you left," Dinin asked, sitting down across from his brother.  
  
"There was little in Menzoberranzan that I held dear," Drizzt replied, " all I missed were Belwar, Clacker, and Zaknafein." Dinin seemed confused. "Clacker was a pech that had been polymorphed into a hook horror," Drizzt explained, "and Belwar..." He stopped all of the sudden, a painful memory had rushed back into his thoughts at the mention of Belwar.  
  
"What," Dinin pressed.  
  
"Do you remember the svirfnebli party our patrol was assigned to kill," Drizzt asked. Dinin nodded. "Remember how Masoj sent Guenwhyvar after the gnomes that captured me?" Again Dinin nodded. "Remember the gnome whose hands you cut off?" Drizzt's voice had gone cold without his knowing it.  
  
"I remember," Dinin said defensively.  
  
"That was Belwar," Drizzt stated, "after several years alone in the wilds I went to Blingdinstone. The gnomes were not cruel to me, but neither did they fully trust me. Belwar convinced them that I was a friend. He took me into his home, taught me his language, treated me with kindness." Drizzt sighed heavily and let his lavender eyes drift over the surrounding tundra, the snow blinding in the afternoon sun. "I still miss them, Clacker was killed and Belwar remained in Blingdinstone after I came to the surface."  
  
"Did you ever think of going back" Dinin asked.  
  
"At first," Drizzt admitted, "I faced so much hate from the surface people at first. I couldn't speak their language so I couldn't explain myself. They would not have believed me anyway. I wondered if I had gone against some divine plan. It all seemed so very hopeless.  
  
"Yet you have remained and thrived," Dinin observed, "you have a home, friends, a family that won't slit your throat just to climb higher in rank." Dinin also let his sight drift. "You're free."  
  
"You're free too now," Drizzt pointed out, sympathetically, "you can have those things too now."  
  
"You and I are different, Drizzt," Dinin shook his head, "you have always had morals and principles, I have yet to learn them." Drizzt wanted to counter, to tell Dinin not to despair and that he would learn in time, but the look in his brother's ruby eyes was not one of hope. Dinin's eyes were the eyes of a dying soldier. Beaten and defeated.  
  
Before Drizzt could try to think of something to say, Guenwhyvar bounded up the climb, roaring, an enormous, white wolf chasing after her.  
  
"What in the nine hells," Dinin exclaimed. Guenwhyvar stood rigid with her back to Drizzt, snarling at the wolf menacingly, determined to protect her master. The wolf paced several feet in front of her, hackles up and growling.  
  
"Damn it all, Guenwhyvar," a new voice from down the winding trail complained in the drow language, "you gave us away again." Drizzt knew the voice.  
  
"Reigaldus," he called questioningly.  
  
"Wrong, foolish male! It is I Matron Yvonnel Baenre herself!" A ghostly apparition floated up from the climb and hovered several feet off the ground. The ghostly figure was caked in blood, an arm was missing, and the right side of the head was badly displaced. Dinin fell back, swords leaping to his hands, but Drizzt laughed long and loud.  
  
"How many times shall we try this jest," Drizzt grinned.  
  
"Until you fall for it," the ghost said angrily, "if your damn cat didn't always give me away, than I would have had you so many times."  
  
"And if you didn't let my cat see YOUR WOLF then she wouldn't be able to give you away," Drizzt countered snidely, "Rei-gal-dus." The ranger dragged out the renegade's name.  
  
The ghost, who wasn't really a ghost at all, began to shift shape. Its arm grew back, the blood faded, the head realigned itself. Soon what had once been the ghost of a great matron became a handsome drow male with very long, white hair, two-toned eyes, and a wide smirk that showed pointed eye- teeth. The wolf stalked over to Reigaldus and sat protectively beside his master.  
  
"Nessa said you were up here," Reigaldus began, stroking the wolf's snow- white fur.  
  
"How long have you and the wolf been in Icewind Dale," Drizzt demanded suspiciously, laying a hand on Guenwhyvar's head to cam her.  
  
"Andrazilian and I arrived this morning," Reigaldus replied innocently.  
  
"Right," Drizzt concluded skeptically, "more likely you came in last night, tormented somebody with your tricks, left, then returned this morning."  
  
"Who is your friend," Reigaldus asked quickly, changing the subject. Drizzt sighed.  
  
"Dinin, this is the family idiot, Nessa's brother," the ranger introduced, "Family Idiot, this is my half-brother Dinin."  
  
"Meilikki Paladin here," Reigaldus jerked his thumb to indicate Drizzt, " means to call me Reigaldus, or just Reig if you like, but he has a low opinion of me."  
  
"Family Idiot is a dobluth," Drizzt explained, using the drow word for outcast, "by drow custom he should have been sacrificed at birth, but Nessa secretly kept him hidden for decades, taking care of him and somewhat warping his mind in the process."  
  
"I see," Dinin concluded. He seemed to remember something about a drow house being brought down for treachery against the Spider Queen. The house's matron was accused of denouncing the Spider Queen and worshipping another goddess, forming alliances with colnbluth, non-drow, and breaking the edicts of Lolth, rescuing third born sons for one offense. The matron herself and most of her cohorts had not been captured and her sisters swore that they knew nothing of the sacrilege done by the matron in question. However, he could not remember the name of the house.  
  
"Daiblon Oculadae," Reigaldus informed simply. Dinin stuttered for a second.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The house you were remembering," Reigaldus explained, "you were thinking of Daiblon Oculadae, House Seralon."  
  
To be continued...  
  
AN: Despite rumors that I am a slacker... what a minute. Why am I denying this? I AM a slacker. But that doesn't mean I don't try to give my best when it comes to my writing. Ok, so my grades could be a little better and I could study a little more for my math and Japanese tests, but that would take time out of my writing. (bangs head against wall, which BTW burns 150 calories an hour, wow) Damn school.  
  
That stupid doohicky that posts stuff is making me mad. Here on Microsoft Word, I can put stuff like ship names and drow words in italics so that people know what they are. But that damn doohicky puts in back in normal font. Why?! Same with Bold lettering. Does anyone know how to not make that happen? I've seen it on some other people's stuff so why does it do that to me?  
  
Who likes Reigaldus? I thought there are too many serious uptight people in this story so I made Reig (which is pronounced as rage) a carefree, fun- loving, trickster type character. The scene between Dagasta and Dantrag (Mad Dantrag!) was also put in to lighten the mood and to keep the story entertaining. And the rivalry between Guenwhyvar (who just appeared in this chap for those who noticed) and Andrazilian I thought would be humorous, you know, cats vs. dogs.  
  
The scene between Dinin and Drizzt... wait a sec! I can't spoil that! Never mind! Talking too much. Please review now that you've obviously read it.  
  
~ Semdai Bloodquill  
  
PS - Am currently developing a song fic about Zak (song is 'Forgive Me' by Godsmack). Thinking about dumping it since I have so much other stuff already. Should I dump it or keep going? Please tell me. 


	10. 8 Tears of Blood

Disclaimer : Am currently at home sick (possibly due to wishing I owned Forgotten Realms) coughing madly and sneezing out rainbow-colored snot (not pleasant but kinda funny) can't lay down and rest (though I should) so instead I will write -er type. Whatever. I now have even more sympathy for those characters that catch the plague. (Imagines vomiting rainbow- colored stuff) Eew... Enough of that!  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Eight : Tears of Blood  
  
Antioch stormed back and forth across his chamber, fuming with rage.  
  
"How could she choose him over me," he growled, "I'm older and far better equipped for the position of Patrol Commander. So what if he ranked higher than me? So what if he can cut his own flesh? So what? Why is he better than me!" Antioch slammed his fist against the wall in rage. "You will pay!" He punched the wall again. "I swear with all the strength that is in my body, you will pay, Zandrath!"  
  
Antioch dropped down heavily on his cot. He clenched his hands before his eyes as he imagined. He pretended that his long, black fingers were gripping his younger brother's throat, strangling the life from his hated brother. He imagined the pleasure it would give him to see Zandrath, wriggling under his grasp. Imagined his brother's golden eyes widening in fear, in terror. Imagined the desperate pounding of Zandrath's heart against his hands as he dug hem into his brother's throat. How he longed for it to be real.  
  
"Someday," Antioch promised grimly, "someday, I will kill my brother."  
  
Lazuli had never traveled so fast in her life. Despite Melkor's size, though he was still small by the standards of his kind, the black dragon had already reached Luskan after only a single day of flying. When the three of them set up camp, Melkor found himself a ledge and stretched out on it. The dragon was resting peacefully under the moonlight moments later.  
  
Seivriel made a spectacle of leaning against Melkor's side. If the dragon minded, he showed it not.  
  
"You knew my father and Jarlaxle," Lazuli pressed, sitting across from the pirate leader, "how?"  
  
"Artemis and Jarlaxle were bounty hunters for several years," Seivriel began, "I was to be one of their prizes. Artemis I and I were forced to fight against and allied with each other on many occasions. When the tiles and chips were counted and tallied we came to a dead tie. Then you came into the picture. Our final match was postponed until the matter of you was settled. Of course you needed your name, of which I played some part. But other problems arose, particularly where you would grow up. It was Jarlaxle's idea that he and Artemis keep you."  
  
"What do you mean by that," Lazuli demanded, "am I not my father's daughter?"  
  
"No, that's not what I mean," Seivriel explained hastily, "Artemis did indeed sire you. Your mother would not have allowed him to keep you had you not been his daughter."  
  
"You knew my mother," Lazuli balked.  
  
"My, but you are full of questions," Seivriel sighed, "yes, I knew your mother, quite well actually. But, one story at a time. Your mother and Artemis knew that they would not be able to raise you together. They were much too different to be a good pair of parents. They believed it would be better if you were raised by one or the other. Choosing which parent though, was a difficult choice. Neither of them were young enough to be considered model parents and both lead dangerous and wandering lives. Jarlaxle was the one who made the difference, he was absolutely enamored by you and he prodded and pushed Artemis to keep you. Finally, they decided that you would remain with your father, partly because you resembled him so keenly and partly because if something were to happen to Artemis, Jarlaxle, who still had a century or two of life left at the time, would be able to take care of you." Seivriel scratched the back of her neck absentmindedly.  
  
"What happened to my mother," Lazuli asked.  
  
"That was the last matter decided," Seivriel dodged, "it was agreed that your mother would not intervene in your upbringing and that Jarlaxle, Artemis, and I, would not reveal her name or whereabouts to you until you were ready."  
  
"Why is that," Lazuli challenged, "do I not have the right to know who my own mother was?"  
  
"Such a right you have," Seivriel admitted, "but there are things that you will not like about her and such things are for when you are ready to accept what you will inherit from her." Lazuli was not satisfied. "I will tell you this, though only if you swear you will not tell Artemis that I told you."  
  
"I swear it," Lazuli promised eagerly.  
  
"Your mother was not truly human," Seivriel revealed, "you father did not learn of these things until after you were born, when your mother showed him her true form. She was a being not of this age nor even a full breed of that part of her that was not human. Her powers were great and terrible, her energies were without boundary, and her spirit was reckless and raging as fire. She feared greatly that her powers would manifest in you if you remained with her for too long." Lazuli was silent. "One day, when you are wise enough to understand, she will seek you out and ask for your forgiveness," Seivriel assured, "she made that promise to you before she gave you over to Artemis and Jarlaxle. It was my duty to bear witness to that pledge and to take you, Artemis, and Jarlaxle to Calimport and also to guide your mother away from you." Seivriel ended her tale and studied Lazuli's reaction.  
  
Lazuli remained silent.  
  
"Get some sleep," Seivriel advised, "it'll help."  
  
Lazuli was still silent.  
  
Spinalo's home was nestled on the northeastern edge of the city. The house wasn't very glamorous or elaborate, but it had a warm, friendly radiance to it that made it like the castle of a great king. Spinalo sent a large raven to what he refereed to as 'the palace' requesting an audience with the Queen and insisted that Zerial and Tanarial make themselves comfortable.  
  
"It may take some time for an audience to be scheduled," Spinalo explained, "so please make yourselves at home."  
  
"Don't you have a family, Spinalo," Zerial asked, sitting in a leather chair, "like a wife or kids?"  
  
"I had a wife, a son, a brother, and two sisters," Spinalo replied sadly, "my younger sister and brother both left the city many years ago and I have not heard from them since. My elder sister was bonded to a great dragon that she raised from an egg. Her dragon was slain and she died as well. My wife died in childbirth," Spinalo stopped and his black eyes filled with hurt, "and my son I lost to the plague." His voice was anguished as he went on, "my poor son, barely nine years old, so small, and so very kind and gentle. He died in my arms, blind and suffering..." Spinalo sat and buried his face in his hands at the memory of his son's death.  
  
"That's terrible," Tanarial said sadly.  
  
"No parent should have to bury their child," Zerial added, "I'm sorry I brought it up."  
  
"It's not your fault," Spinalo assured, "I still find it hard to believe that he's really gone. Sometimes I sit alone in this house and I hear him. He's always reminding me that it wasn't my fault and that he'll wait patiently for me to join him."  
  
"He must have really loved you," Tanarial suggested, "if he comes back of his own free will to console you, then he cares for you even in death."  
  
"Take solace in his presence," Zerial advised, "feel honored that he's watching over you."  
  
Spinalo was greatly comforted by the two Gold elves.  
  
Dagasta strode briskly down the corridor, a slight bounce in his step. He had a lot to be thankful for. He was alive for one thing. For another, Zandrath had his eye back. And finally, he had sired another child, this one a female. Granted he might get some hand in her upbringing, he hoped to keep his family's bloodline flowing. Yes, the patron was glad. Everything was working out as planned. They had entered and 'tainted' the most powerful house in the city. It had taken several decades, but the plan was beginning to bloom.  
  
Yes, Dagasta knew his siblings would be proud.  
  
He sauntered cheerfully into Triel's chamber, unannounced, and bowed before the foul-tempered matron.  
  
"This had better be important," Triel threatened. Dagasta was fearful on the outside but laughing inside as he straightened and held out the message he had been asked to deliver.  
  
"I bring word from the lieutenants," the patron explained, "apparently there has been a relapse."  
  
"I was assured that this plague was contained and controlled," Triel roared when she saw the message, "two hundred soldiers in a single week!"  
  
"If I'm not mistaken that puts us at roughly four hundred soldiers and one hundred clerics," Dagasta calculated.  
  
"Thirty clerics have also died," Triel growled, knowing that Dagasta likely already knew that.  
  
"Seventy clerics," the patron corrected, "it would appear that we have lost a third of the army before it has even begun its march."  
  
Triel wanted to beat Dagasta, but he was right. Whether she liked it or not, he was right and also too valuable an asset to throw away.  
  
"We will continue to pray to Lady Lloth for salvation," Triel decided firmly, "give Zandrath the command to ready the soldiers."  
  
Inside, Dagasta was grinning ever wider. How deliciously everything was playing into his hands. Soon, everything would fall into place.  
  
Though her eyes were the color of fresh snow, she was far from blind. Her eyes had not always been white, either. When she was young, they had been as black as any other drandil, as had been her hair, but their obsidian hues had faded with her youth, faded to pure, untainted white.  
  
She was very old, even more so than the late Matron Yvonnel Baenre. It was not just her eyes and hair that had faded with age. She was thin as well and not very strong in body. Her limbs were longer than normal and her nails were sharp and curved. Her skin was so pale that it was nearly as white as her hair.  
  
Yet, she was still very beautiful. Her clothes were as white as her eyes and flowed gracefully like water down her famished frame to sway about her bare feet. She had few accessories to her attire other than a pair of silver and pearl earrings, a trio of silver encased, diamond bracelets, two simple silver chains around each ankle, and a plain silver band on her left ring finger.  
  
Instantly, Zerial and Tanarial were humbled. Her mere presence was cause enough to make the twins want to fall to their knees in reverence. Never before had they seen an elf so ancient and noble. Spinalo, however, seemed perfectly at ease.  
  
"This is Shiroinohi Tavalone," Spinalo introduced dramatically, "in our language her name means 'White Queen.'"  
  
"Welcome," Shiroinohi greeted, her voice was soft, clear, and akin to the ringing of little bells. The twins felt the need to prostrate themselves before her. "You needn't bother with such silly formalities," she assured, "you are friends until proven otherwise."  
  
"Thank you, Your Grace," Tanarial said gratefully, contenting himself with a simple bow of his head and shoulders.  
  
"What brings the two of you to the forgotten forest of Gloomwood," Shiroinohi asked politely.  
  
"We come seeking the cure of the plague that is currently sweeping the world," Tanarial replied.  
  
"I know the plague of which you speak," Shiroinohi said sadly, her long, white eyelashes drooped over her bind eyes, "Aruine Abitus our dark cousins have named it. My ears have heard of its terrors and my far eyes have seen its anguish."  
  
"Pardon my saying this, but aren't you blind," Zerial asked tentatively.  
  
"That is correct, Zerial," Shiroinohi nodded, "I am indeed blind, but it is only a blindness of my body's eyes. The sight of my spirit and my mind are unhindered. So, in a way I see more than I did before my body's eyes failed. But it matters not, you come seeking the cure and I can tell you of it if so you desire."  
  
"We do," the brothers answered in unison. Shiroinohi turned her face upward.  
  
"Of the moon, they come as two. The Golds they tell, came two as well. Of the dark, three did embark. And a mix of breed was one to lead," she recited, "so it comes to pass."  
  
"What comes to pass," Zerial asked.  
  
"The prophesy," Shiroinohi said quietly, "foretold by the ancient queens after the Sundering."  
  
Monty didn't wake up that morning, nor did he awaken that afternoon. Still, Nessa and Drizzt were ever at his side keeping their tortured vigil over their son like guardian angels.  
  
It was clear to everyone that Monty was very sick. The young drow's purple eyes were dimming in light and color. His stomach could not hold even a single swallow of water for more than a few seconds before it was forced back up accompanied by a gush of scarlet fluid. There was blood collecting in his ears, nose, and eyes. His breathing was shallow and faltering more severely every minute. No one would voice it, but it became clear that Montolio Do'Urden would not live to see the next sunrise.  
  
It was midnight when Monty at last opened his failing eyes. He was in his father's arms, his heavy head resting against Drizzt's collarbone, so close he could hear the beating of the ranger's heart. His mother was there too. He could feel her even though he couldn't see her. She was on the opposite side of him as Drizzt, as if they were holding him between them. Her soft cheek was resting against his burning forehead. He wanted to speak to them.  
  
"Mom," Monty coughed weakly, "Dad..."  
  
"We're here, Monty," Drizzt comforted, "it's all right." Something wet splashed onto Monty's cheek. Was his father crying?  
  
"I saw... terrible... things... in my dreams..." Monty's voice was raspy and feeble, "two armies... one drow... one fearie... fighting... then... another army appeared... they were... different..." Monty stopped and gasped for breath.  
  
"Don't try to talk, save your strength," Nessa cried.  
  
"Not much time..." Monty refused to give up, "at the end... four elves... with... instruments... came to... stop... the fighting..." Monty lost his voice in a fit of violent coughing, but regained it in time to say, " such... beautiful... music..."  
  
Drizzt's heart skipped a beat. "Monty," he cried frantically, "Montolio, don't you dare die!"  
  
"Take me... outside... please," Monty pleaded. Drizzt rose immediately and carried his sickened son out of the dwarven complex. At first he walked, but he was soon running as fast as his legs could carry him, Nessa not far behind.  
  
They reached the surface just as the sun was preparing to rise.  
  
"Monty, look," Drizzt urged, "the sun is rising."  
  
Monty peered through the haze of his waning sight and found he could make out the light of the rising sun. A contented smile crossed his face. Drizzt cradled Monty in his arms, moaning in anguish.  
  
"Father..." Monty's voice was almost inaudible, "don't be sad... I love you... and Mom..." Monty's head fell lifeless against his father's shoulder. Montolio Do'Urden suffered no more.  
  
To be continued...  
  
AN : Gloomwood was designed as a mixture between Silverymoon, Imladerus (Rivendell), and Evereska (elven city in Troy Denning's Return of the Archwizards) plus a little bit of flourish on my part. I wanted the place to kind of mirror Menzoberranzan, both cities are populated by elves, both are ruled by really, friggin, old females, and they both are matriarchal societies. So alike and yet completely opposite (fits the story title I think). I also have to apologize for how sad and depressing this chapter is. The last one was really happy and upbeat, then this one comes along and everything goes to hell. I wonder if I subconsciously planed it that way. Damn my sadistic alter egos. Mmmmm... Eggo waffles...  
  
Bonus Feature: I wrote this poem after I decided that Monty was going to die. It's written from Drizzt's point of view, about what he must have felt when his son died. The last line was inspired by Lord Montague from 'Romeo and Juliet.' Hope you enjoy!  
  
Lament  
  
I didn't know. It was time for you to go. My sadness for you will be great. My tears will flow, my heart will ache. You left so soon and I don't know why. It was you that had to die. If only I could have taken your place. A smile would still brighten your shining face. But you smile no longer and my soul is hurt. My life no longer has any worth. Forever will I miss you so. Memory makes me heavy with woe. If only it was me, that I would rather. For a son should not die before his father... 


	11. 9 Black Pegasus

Disclaimer : The weirdest thing happened when I sat down to write this. My lungs stopped, my breathing faltered, and my eyes started to itch and burn like I was gonna cry at any time... and then I sneezed. No joke! (sigh) So here I am, summer has arrived. RAS still owns all of his characters. (sighs again)  
  
Mirror Me Dark  
  
By Semdai Bloodquill  
  
Chapter Nine : Black Pegasus  
  
Nessa had come to love the snow. It was everything that a drow was not... except cold of course. Snow was white where drow skin was black. Snow was soft and pure where drow were twisted and corrupt. Snowflakes bonded together to become a greater masterpiece, but drow stayed alone and wove their own meaningless tapestries, destroying the work of others to better their own pieces. For these reasons, Nessa loved Icewind Dale.  
  
It was not a place of warm, summer sunshine. Nor was it a place of new spring grass reaching up through the decay of the winter's fall or autumn leaves falling like flashes of brown, yellow, red, and orange fire. Neither was it a place of rain, gentle drizzles or roaring thunderstorms. No. Icewind Dale was a place of snow. A kingdom of white, cold and barren but in its own way beautiful. For freshly fallen, virgin snow is white and pure like the feathers of an angel's wings.  
  
But sometimes the purest of things lasts but a sparse few seconds. After Montolio had looked his last at the flaming light spreading over the snow from the rising sun, the sky had returned to its customary gray and cloudy. But the clouds were darker than the norm and once the sun had cleared from the horizon, they began to pour heavy drops of water down on the perfect snow. And the angel feather snow turned gray as old ashes.  
  
It seemed fitting to the grieving family.  
  
Binx buried her face in her father's shoulder. Drizzt held his daughter tightly, sharing her feelings. Sordath stood silently beside Binx, a mournful expression in his yellow eyes and a wounded look to his posture. Nessa lay on her side in the slush beside Monty's grave, crying softly. Reigaldus knelt beside her, his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her.  
  
Dinin stared at the grave with mixed emotion. He understood that they were sad over Monty's death. But he did not understand why.  
  
Bruenor exited the caverns several hours later to find that the rain was coming down harder and in sheets of hail and freezing water. In the midst of it all was Drizzt, his white hair and cloak being tossed by the violent winds, standing alone beside his son's grave, his tears lost in the downpour. The old dwarf marched out into the elements to stand beside his friend. Bruenor stopped beside Drizzt and matched the drow's stance.  
  
"Why are we here, Bruenor," Drizzt asked quietly, his posture not changing.  
  
"I'm out here 'cuz you want to freeze yerself to death 'cuz ya feel bad fer yer kid," Bruenor answered gruffly.  
  
"I mean why are we here in Icewind Dale instead of Mithril Hall," Drizzt corrected.  
  
"Because there's nuthin ter do there," Bruenor reasoned, "cuz the Dale here is home to us."  
  
"Monty called this place home," Drizzt said sadly, "he wasn't born here, but he called it home. None of us were born here except Wulfgar, but it's still home. It's home because we are all here, together." Drizzt still did not take his eyes off his son's grave. "All the happiness, the triumphs, the struggles, and the memories we have here make it home."  
  
"And it's still home, ya know," Bruenor reminded.  
  
"But part of it is missing," Drizzt mourned quietly, "a piece that could never be replaced is lost now."  
  
"Bah," Bruenor snorted, nudging Drizzt in the ribs, "it's only lost ter yer eyes. If ya know where ta look, ya never loose anything, elf. Now come on inside and calm yer girl down before she does something stupid." Drizzt looked down at Bruenor and felt a small piece of a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. He smiled at the old dwarf.  
  
"You're right, Bruenor," Drizzt agreed, "besides, Monty wouldn't want me to freeze to death out here staring at his grave while his mother and siblings are waiting inside."  
  
"That's the elf I know," Bruenor cheered, "let's go in an warm up."  
  
Just as the pair was turning to leave a great bellow shook the sky and a dark shape passed overhead. Bruenor had his axe out in an instant.  
  
"What was that," the dwarf exclaimed.  
  
"It looked like a dragon," Drizzt puzzled, "too small though. Might by a drake or a young wyrm but why would it come here?"  
  
The shape passed over them again, lower this time and moving in a circle like a vulture. A bolt of lightning split the sky and brought a startled roar from the shape as it fell from the air, landing hard several meters away from them. Weapons ready, Drizzt and Bruenor rushed to the site.  
  
"Not one of your better landings I take it, Melkor," a female voice asked in exasperation. Drizzt and Bruenor slowed their approach.  
  
"Storms do not make for good landings," a deep, male voice retorted.  
  
"Are you hurt, Lazuli," the female voice asked. Sounds of another female getting up heavily made their way to Drizzt's keen ears. The dark elf lifted his hood over his head.  
  
"Not badly," another female voice answered, "I'll be fine. How's Melkor?"  
  
"I can walk but I believe my wings have been injured," the male replied darkly.  
  
"Wonderful," the first female said sarcastically.  
  
Drizzt and Bruenor stopped several paces from the trio and were awarded a sight neither had ever thought possible. Two women in traveling clothes were leaning against a young black dragon. The dragon lay on his side, his heavy breath making clouds of steam.  
  
"Could you lend us some help, good sirs," one woman asked when she looked up and saw Drizzt and Bruenor, "we're heading to Icewind Dale and directions to Kelvin's Cairn would be much appreciated."  
  
"You've reached Icewind Dale already," Bruenor barked, "but why'd ya come on a dragon? Caravans too outdated?"  
  
"Caravans aren't fast enough for our purposes," the second woman remarked, "do you know a place where we can wait out this storm?" Drizzt and Bruenor looked at each other for a while.  
  
"Kelvin's Cairn is just over there," Drizzt pointed the way, "you can hole up there."  
  
"Our gratitude kind drow and good dwarf," the first woman thanked, "my name is Seivriel, this is Lazuli," she pointed to the second woman, "and this is Melkor," she patted the dragon's head as if he were a favored pet.  
  
"This is Bruenor Battlehammer," Drizzt introduced, indicating his dwarven comrade, "and I am Drizzt Do'Urden." Lazuli shifted at the mention of the drow's name.  
  
"Well met," Seivriel greeted, "pray tell, are rainstorms a common thing this far north?"  
  
"This one's a puzzle sure enough," Bruenor grumbled.  
  
The dragon, Melkor, stood up and tried to stretch his wings. His left wing barely reached arm-length before he was forced to fold it back again in pain.  
  
"Does it hurt that much," Seivriel inquired, gently stroking the injured wing.  
  
"It will be healed by morning," Melkor assured, "for now, may we take our leave of this storm?"  
  
"This way," Drizzt offered, leading the way to the entrance to the mines.  
  
Melkor was just able to crawl into Bruenor's audience chamber, much to the surprise of the dwarves inside. Drizzt heard Seivriel said something to Melkor in a language that he didn't understand. The dragon chortled and settled himself off to the side of the hall.  
  
"He'll stay there until the storm ends," Seivriel said to Drizzt, "then he'll go outside again. He doesn't like the indoors."  
  
"How did you manage to tame him," Drizzt dared to inquire.  
  
"I think it's more the other way around," Seivriel explained, "he stays with me because I give him room and board in exchange for small services like this one."  
  
"So what brings ye to the Dale," Bruenor asked as he joined them.  
  
"Actually, I'm just an escort," Seivriel clarified, "Lazuli's the one with business here."  
  
"I'm looking for someone," Lazuli said from her place on the floor beside Melkor, "I am on a mission of the greatest importance."  
  
"Ye look familiar," Bruenor puzzled, studying Lazuli, "have we met before?"  
  
"You know my father," Lazuli offered, "have you ever been to Calimport?"  
  
"Artemis Entreri if my instinct serve me right," Drizzt said simply.  
  
"That's correct, Master Do'Urden," Lazuli confirmed, "but I'm not here because of my father, despite what you might be thinking. I came here in search of someone who may be able to help someone very dear to me."  
  
"Who do you seek," Drizzt prompted her to continue.  
  
"I was given only the name of 'Seralon' beyond that I have no leads," Lazuli said.  
  
"I know a Seralon," piped a cheerful voice from one of the side passages, "depends on what sex you mean."  
  
"The Seralon I search for is female," Lazuli specified as Reigaldus exited the passage.  
  
"You want my sister then," the eccentric drow decided, "but good luck trying to talk with her."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean," Lazuli demanded.  
  
"Nessa is mourning at the moment," Drizzt explained, sadness clear in his voice, "our oldest son died last night." Lazuli softened.  
  
"I'm sorry," she offered, "how did he die?"  
  
"Nessa said it was The Plague," Drizzt replied softly.  
  
Lazuli's stomach did a somersault in fear. If Nessa couldn't save her own son from the elven plague, then how could she be expected to save Jarlaxle?  
  
Terrell Dathane carefully digested the news. Lazuli Entreri had not returned to the city, gone as she was on some extended mission. Her father, the legendary Artemis Entreri, had stayed behind with Jarlaxle, who was apparently not in the best of health. It seemed a perfect opportunity for the leader of the Night Eyes Guild to eliminate the possible threat to their supremacy.  
  
Still, Terrell was not a rash or hasty leader. The two Entreris were both powerful, despite their respective ages, and their drow companion was not to be counted lightly, sick or well. A week had passed since Lazuli had left and there was no word that she might be returning any time soon. That would give the guild's soldiers confidence that the female Entreri would not interrupt a possible assassination. If they could somehow kill the remaining pair, a trap could be set for Lazuli if or when she returned.  
  
But would that bring any real gain to the guild? Of course the heads of Jarlaxle and Artemis Entreri would bring untold respect to the fledgling guild and probably even raise them a few ranks in the city's hierarchy, but what was the point of it all? Terrell Dathane, a hit-man of almost thirty years, carefully weighed the pros and cons of his situation. What if their attempt failed? What vengeful retribution might befall them if even one of the powerful trio survived?  
  
The latter prospect was more than a little unnerving.  
  
Terrell gave the order to keep close eyes on the remaining two. If the chance to get one of them alone presented itself, it could be taken if possible. Terrell Dathane prayed for luck to be with them.  
  
Zandrath rode his lizard mount in silence. Behind him stretched the Baenre army, three hundred fifty hundred well trained foot soldiers, fifty lizard riders, and seventy battle ready clerics, all marching in silence. Dagasta came up beside Zandrath on his own lizard.  
  
'Are you excited,' the patron asked in the hand code of the dark elves.  
  
'Excited is the wrong word,' Zandrath returned glumly.  
  
'Anxious then,' Dagasta corrected.  
  
'Anxious, stressed, confused,' Zandrath admitted, 'need I go on?'  
  
'It's because you've never seen the surface before,' Dagasta explained.  
  
'Have you ever been there,' the younger drow asked.  
  
'Once,' the Baenre patron replied, 'I have a brother and a sister living up there.'  
  
'Why are they up there,' Zandrath asked eagerly.  
  
'Because they hate the ways of our people,' Dagasta explained, 'I would join them, but my part in our family's plan is not yet over. Once my mission has been completed, I will leave the Underdark and join them.'  
  
'Will you take me with you?'  
  
It seemed more a plea than a question to Dagasta. It made his heart sore.  
  
'If it were my choice, I would have taken you and your brother to the surface as soon as we were able to,' the old patron lamented, 'my sister would have welcomed us in a heartbeat, but my mission was not yet complete.'  
  
'What is your mission,' Zandrath dare to ask.  
  
' I wish I could tell you,' was all Dagasta could say.  
  
Zandrath left the conversation at that and returned to his thoughts. So he wasn't alone in his temperament. So there were other drow like him and his father out there. And best of all, he had a real family somewhere on the surface. A great weight was lifted from his shoulders.  
  
Zandrath even dared to hope that he might meet this lost family someday.  
  
"I know why you're here," the somber drow female stated when Lazuli entered the chamber. The dark elf was sitting in a large armchair, her yellow eyes staring into the dancing flames of the fireplace before her. She seemed tired and sad as she sat heavily in her seat. "I know that you came hoping I could save your friend Jarlaxle," she continued, "and I know that you are crestfallen in the revelation that I could not save my own son from this plague." Lazuli was surprised at how much this strange drow knew.  
  
"Jarlaxle said he knew you from Menzoberranzan," she ventured.  
  
"One of the few pleasant memories I have of the place," Nessa replied, " you'll forgive me, I hope, if I sound cynical in any way."  
  
"No harm done," Lazuli assured, "I hope I don't come across as impatient."  
  
"If you do, I know it's merely out of concern and I'll take no offense," Nessa returned, "sit if you like." The drow pointed to a chair on the other side of the fireplace. Lazuli sat down.  
  
"I know this must hurt, but I have to ask," she began, "is there anything you can do for Jarlaxle?"  
  
"There may be," Nessa admitted, "with Monty I wasn't sure what it was until it was too late. Now that I know the nature of the disease, I think I can slow it down." Lazuli brightened.  
  
"Then will you come with me back to Calimport," she asked hopefully.  
  
"How long has Jarlaxle been infected," Nessa asked, changing the subject.  
  
"I don't know," Lazuli admitted, "he started showing symptoms about three weeks ago."  
  
"His time is running out then," Nessa sighed, "we should leave as soon as possible."  
  
"You mean you'll come," Lazuli asked eagerly.  
  
"We've stayed here for too long," Nessa said slowly, "dark elves are not a race that does well as a fixed family. Especially ones like us. I will assemble my family. We will accompany you back to Calimport and seek the cure to this plague." Nessa stood slowly as she spoke. "If you would excuse me, Lazuli, I have matters to attend to."  
  
As she left Nessa's chamber it occurred to Lazuli that she had not told Nessa her name.  
  
"These mounts I am giving you will carry you to Calimport," Shiroinohi instructed the two Gold elves, "from there, seek a family of drow whom you will meet there. Tell my name to the one who calls herself 'Nessa' and then you two must lead them here. By then I will have gathered the last of your destined party and the plague can be stopped."  
  
"How will we know this family when we meet them," Zerial asked. Shiroinohi, floating silently ahead of them down the corridor, smiled.  
  
"The youngest of the family will know you," the white queen assured, " however, be careful what you say to him, for though he is a kind soul he is suffering a terrible loss and he will be quick to lash out in sadness."  
  
"So we go to Calimport, find this drow family, and bring them here," Tanarial summarized.  
  
"Correct," the drandil queen confirmed, "the drow family and three others who will be with them."  
  
"How will we get there," Zerial asked.  
  
The white queen led them into a stable. The twins gasped in surprise. Instead of regular horses or even the winter wolves that were so common among the dragon elves, there were pegasi resting in the stalls. Huge, majestic creatures with coats the color of charcoal and eyes like pearls. Several stomped and whinnied when the trio entered.  
  
"Each of these mounts can carry up to three passengers," Shiroinohi notified, patting a particularly large stallion as she passed him, "I'm sending five with you. That way any unexpected passengers can accompany you." The twins wondered what the white queen knew that they didn't.  
  
Deudermont gave out the orders with fervor and the crew bustled to obey them. The old captain studied the map he had been given. The map depicted the southern half of the Sword Coast in perfect detail, leaving no settlement left unnamed and every island labeled.  
  
But, what really made the map unique to Deudermont's eyes was the port city several miles north of Memnon. He'd never heard of the city, but the southern captain who had given him the map had said that if he was looking for a stolen ship that city would be the place to start looking.  
  
"Awaiting your course Captain," one of the deck hands notified briskly.  
  
"Set the course for south southeast," Deudermont ordered, "skim the coast and watch for this city." The old captain pointed to the map.  
  
"Out Haven, sir," the crewman asked.  
  
"Out Haven," Deudermont confirmed.  
  
To be continued...  
  
To all the faithful and loyal readers of this sorry piece of fanfiction: the next update may be a while in getting posted. The reason for this is that I am going to start looking for a summer job and wont have a whole lot of free time. Plus the computer I've been using belongs to my parents and I can only use it when they're not home or I'm doing school work. My plan of action to combat this is I will find myself a job, save up the money, and buy my own computer. Plan is pathetic, I know, but it's the best one I have and it beats collecting pop can money at the bottle returns (money I have to split with my brother). So yeah. Please have patience with my incompetence and flame if you can't.  
  
Semdai Bloodquill 


	12. 10 Heart of a Draegloth

Disclaimer : Fresh off suspension and ready to wreak havoc on the world of fanfiction once more! AHAHA! Don't own FR! Don't care!

**Mirror Me Dark**

By Semdai Bloodquill

**Chapter Ten : The Heart of a Draegloth**

Being back at sea brought a small measure of peace to Deudermont. The crisp, cold air. The white of the surf. The roar of the waves. And the sight of the pirate ship ahead of them.

"Do not let her get away this time," the old captain ordered. After losing the pirate twice already, Deudermont was determined to succeed or die trying.

Eleanor stared at the rival ship in disbelief. How could the pirate hunter tail them like this for so long? What did they want? The skeletal captain growled angrily. She needed to dock soon, but with this hunter dogging her she couldn't risk it.

Then it came to her.

She wasn't being chased. She was being tracked. This hunter wanted her to dock so they could learn the location of her hideaway. Eleanor glared at the hunter and strode toward the upper deck.

"Tailing us this hunter is," she stated to her first mate, "for battle prepare."

"To arms, men," the mate shouted, "we turn and fight like wolves rather than run like dogs!" A cheer went up from the crew as battle positions were taken up.

Eleanor pulled a hand mirror from one of her many pockets and gazed into it. The glassy surface clouded over and Seivriel's face appeared.

"What is it Eleanor," the pirate's face asked.

"Fight I must," Eleanor replied, "'til death." Seivriel's face became solemn.

"_Ryu o itei_," the pirate leader said sadly, "go with the dragons." The mirror darkened and returned to it's glassy state.

Eleanor replaced the mirror and took her place at the bow.

"'til death," she repeated....

Seivriel bowed her head and ran her long fingers through her hair. She sighed and her heart felt heavy.

"What ails you," Drizzt asked gently, coming to stand beside her outside. The pirate looked up at him. Then she turned away and let her black eyes drift over the tundra.

"A friend of mine is going to die soon," she said quietly, "and there is nothing I can do to help her."

"I'm sorry," Drizzt offered.

"Don't be," Seivriel said, "Eleanor should have died years ago, but I wouldn't let her. I used a spell forbidden to common mages to preserve her life, but I didn't learn until later what I had done to her. I hadn't stopped Eleanor's death, I had merely stretched it out. She's been dying slowly for years now."

Drizzt had nothing to say back. What could he say? Seivriel's long cloak billowed around her as she stared mindlessly at the muddy snow.

"I'm sorry for the death of your son," she offered somberly, "I can only imagine how terrible it must be to lose your child when they're so young."

"Thank you for your sympathy," Drizzt replied quietly.

"Lazuli wants to return to Calimport at once," the pirate stated, changing the subject. Drizzt was silent. "Will you deny aid to the daughter of your enemy, Drizzt Do'Urden?"

"Her father does not know that I am still alive," the ranger replied.

"Do you fear that he will be the same as when you left him?" Drizzt found that he couldn't answer. "He's very different from what he was twenty years ago," Seivriel continued, "Lazuli is a testament to that change."

"Who is her mother," Drizzt finally spoke up. It was Seivriel's turn to be silent for a time. Drizzt's purple eyes bore into her.

"I am," she replied. How were two simple words so hard to say? " And she must not know," Seivriel added strongly, "Artemis and I decided it would be better if I stayed in the shadows, because of what I am." Drizzt took this information stoically.

"What are you exactly," the ranger asked, "you seem at least part elf."

"Have you heard of the dreagloth," Seivriel returned. Drizzt nodded, all drow knew of the dreagloth. They were powerful creatures, half fiend and half elf. In Menzoberranzan, they were considered precious gifts of Lloth. Many a daring priestess had attempted to couple with the great fiends of the Abyss in order to produce a dreagloth and lost their lives.

"I know the dreagloth," Drizzt said solemnly.

"My mother was a mighty Balor," Seivriel stated, "and my father, a mighty drandil sorcerer. My father summoned me up from the Abyss when I was a baby and brought me to the Material Plane. I look like my father but I have my mother's powers. My father told me I must never have children for they would be monstrous. Lazuli is lucky to look normal, but she must not know that she is part demon until she is ready."

"You are part drandil," Drizzt marveled, "haven't the dragon elves have been missing for centuries?"

"They survive but they are almost extinct," Seivriel explained, "my father's people are lead by a wise and ancient queen. The last surviving child of the great Zembral Tavalone. She is the only reason the dragon elves are alive."

"I have heard stories of Zembral Tavalone," Drizzt admitted, "she lived during the time when the drow were driven into the Underdark. If one of her children is still living they would be thousands of years old now."

"I had the great honor of seeing the White Queen once before I left the city of the drandil," she is indeed thousands of years old." Seivriel paused for a moment. "Drandil have black eyes and hair and skin that's dark and bronze colored. The White Queen is so old that there is no color left in her body. Her eyes, hair, and skin are snow white."

"Such longevity is a rare thing," Drizzt commented.

"Drandil are very long lived creatures," Seivriel continued, "Lazuli is only one quarter drandil but she will still out-live any half-elf." The pirate was silent for many seconds. "Please don't tell her any of this."

"I will not tell her," the ranger promised. His eyes told Seivriel that she could trust him.....

The opening of a door somewhere told Jarlaxle that Entreri was back. Where the old assassin had gone, the drow didn't know. But he was back now.

To Jarlaxle's great surprise, Entreri came right to his room and stood in the doorway. The old assassin didn't speak at first. Entreri finally sighed and tossed a drawstring bag at Jarlaxle.

The drow caught the bag easily, but was unsure if he should open it.

"A gift for me?" Jarlaxle stared at Entreri, "you shouldn't have."

"Just open the bag," Entreri sighed.

Jarlaxle tugged open the strings and reached into the bag, his fingers touched something soft and warm. Curious, he pulled the furry thing out of the bag.

Two, big, golden eyes stared at him from a small pointed face. The creatures ears were vertical on its furry head. Tiny paws gripped Jarlaxle's hand. The animal squeaked and began to sniff the drow, finding him acceptable it lay down on his chest and began to purr.

"It's so cute," Jarlaxle marveled, running his hand across he animal's soft fur, admiring her black and silver stripes and white paws. " What is this creature?"

"She's a kitten," Entreri explained stiffly, "humans keep them as pets."

"She's adorable," Jarlaxle remarked.

"Glad you like her," Entreri said, "you'll have to give her a name."

"Vellsharess," Jarlaxle decided after a moment of thought, "she'll be my little queen."

"You can talk to her when I'm not around," Entreri added, "this way you can't complain to me about being lonely." Entreri turned to leave.

"Thank you," Jarlaxle called after him.

Entreri stopped for a moment but he could not bring himself to turn around and face his dying companion....

Antioch knelt before his mother with respect. Anything less and he might have been flogged, but Triel seemed to be in an oddly pleasant mood.

"Rise Antioch," the Matron willed. Antioch stood but kept his head down. "I have a task for you," Triel appeared almost giddy, "I wish you to lead the new troops we just acquired to your brother and join him in his march." Antioch wanted to pinch himself, he was so delighted. "Lastly, I want you to give Zandrath this." Triel held up a small, thin parcel. "Give this one to your brother and keep this other for yourself." The matron produced an identical package and tossed them both to Antioch, who caught them easily. " Leave when your troops are ready. I have already sent instructions to Zandrath to await you at the surface. You are dismissed."

Antioch bowed again before leaving. Once outside he pocketed Zandrath'a package and tore open his own. Inside lay a dagger. There were emeralds set into the pommel and hand guard. The blade itself was as black as his skin and all eight inches of it were serrated like teeth. At first sight, Antioch was compelled to touch the fine dirk. When he did he felt a strong surge of energy course up his arm and settle in his poisoned heart.

_Are you ready to kill him now_? The voice was eager, hungry, and willful.....

Zandrath tied his rothe skin hammock between two short stalagmites. The golden eyed drow swung himself slowly back and forth in boredom. Dag, which was the name Dagasta preferred to be called by, was off organizing the scouts and Dantrag was resting. Camp was dull.

They were waiting for Antioch and his soldiers to arrive. In the meantime, they were to scout the surrounding surface area as extensively as possible, draw maps and tactics for possible battles, set up a base of operations, and other things a war party was supposed to do.

Zandrath, as Commander, was in charge of keeping the group secret and protected. He selected the sentries, analyzed the reports from the scouts, and even explored the outside terrain a bit himself. But now that it was midday, everyone was ordered to stay within the base. Not even Zandrath could go out.

"Bored," asked Dantrag as he entered Zandrath's quarters, said space being a small side cave.

"Thoroughly," Zandrath replied dryly, "I wish we could go out during the day."

"You'd be blinded," Dantrag stated flatly, "then you'd be useless in battle." Zandrath turned his head all the way to the right until Dantrag was fully in his sights.

"We are trained to fight blindly if necessary," he reminded, "and what of the fabled Drizzt Do'Urden? He lives on the surface and by all accounts his sight is as good as any drow."

"You have never seen the eyes of Drizzt Do'Urden," Dantrag returned darkly, "his eyes are not those of a normal drow."

"What of our eyes then," Zandrath pointed out smartly, "my golden eyes are surely not normal and yours are no different, save for their turning red on occasion. Antioch's eyes are green as emeralds. And Dag's eyes are each a different color."

"Drizzt Do'Urden has purple eyes."

"Purple? I've never heard of a drow having purple eyes."

"Apparently, when he was born his sisters held a lit candle before his eyes and he did not so much as squint," Dantrag recounted the stories he had heard.

"Perhaps he was a mistake," Zandrath offered softly.

"In more ways than one," Dantrag snorted.

"No, that's not what I mean," Zandrath corrected, "I wonder if we are born because of the will of some guiding force."

"You mean Lady Lloth," Dantrag asked.

"As an example, yes," the golden-eyed boy continued, speaking in his soft, sad voice, "I wonder if perhaps the gods we serve are those that give us our souls. If so, then Drizzt Do'Urden may have been a mistake by one of the gods. A follower of a different deity born in a drow body instead of say a surface elf. Would that not offer some explanation to him." Zandrath was quiet for some time, his head rolled back to its center, he began to fiddle idly with his long hair. "Or perhaps we are here because of something inside us that has compelled us here. As if some power in our psyche has pushed us to this. We are about to fight one of the greatest battles of our lives," he said after his long silence, "Whatever the case I should like one day to meet this Drizzt Do'Urden."

"You will be killed," Dantrag stated monotonously.

"By Drizzt or by my mother when I return," Zandrath countered.

"If not one than the other," Dantrag clarified.

"My mother can burn in the deepest circle of the Abyss for all I care," Zandrath spat calmly.

"You'll be put to death for such words if a priestess hears them," Dantrag warned, "or in the very least your tongue would be cut out of your mouth."

"The clerics are always eavesdropping on me," Zandrath remarked, " I've stopped caring what they hear."

"Matron Triel will surely kill you when we return to Menzoberranzan," Dantrag remarked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"But that's where you're wrong..." Zandrath spoke in a way that seemed perfectly at ease for him.

"What do you mean," Dantrag questioned suspiciously.

"You're assuming that I will return," Zandrath stated calmly, "I have no wish to ever lay eyes on Menzoberranzan again." Dantrag was taken aback by his nephew's words.

"You're saying you would leave the City of Spiders? Leave for good?"

"Not just the city... The Underdark as well..."

"You are indeed mad."

"Who will miss me when I'm gone," Zandrath was slipping into another of his depression fits evidently, "will Triel lit some incense and say a prayer for my soul when I die? I doubt it. What will I amount to if I remain in Menzoberranzan? Antioch will one day push aside his cowardice and slit my throat as I sleep, so what will the point of it be? To die for the selfish and twisted ambitions of another? To die upon the blade of my own twin brother? You tell me why I should stay."

Dantrag found he could not add to Zandrath's epiphany, if that was what the young boy's depressed analogy was.

"Could you come around to my right so I can see you," Zandrath requested, seeming all the more saddened somehow. Dantrag silently obliged.

"Why would you need me to stand to your right," he asked, slightly puzzled.

"Because I couldn't see you where you were standing," Zandrath answered simply. Dantrag wondered to himself for a moment, until he remembered it was Zandrath's left eye that Antioch had cut out....

"_Vatashi no mei ga itei mashou_,"

The White Queen chanted softly, her hands clasped to her chest and her head bowed. Her dress rippled as if lifted by a breeze which did not exist. Her summoning chamber hummed.

"_Itei shiroi ohii itei mashou_."

Her acolytes recited as they sat in a circle around her, their hands joined as if in prayer

"_Shiroi no mei oh itei masenka_."

Shiroinohi ended, At once a great beam of light shot up from the center of the floor. It spread out like a folding door and the White Queen saw.

"_Sorei vah osoroshii desyo_," Shiroinohi said quietly. Her white tossed around her head violently. "It is worse than I thought. Our drow cousins are already here."

"What shall we do now my queen?"

Shiroinohi did not answer right away.

"My Queen?"

"I must go and see this young drow boy with the golden eyes," Shiroinohi stated, "send messengers to all the elven communities and ask for the presence of their leaders at a council meeting. We cannot hide in our forest any longer."

The acolytes did not think to question her.....

Eleanor fell to her knees. All around her, the _Bone Ghost_ was losing. The pirate hunters were winning by a landslide. They had no hope. They were over-run.

"Eleanor Calicol," Deudermont called out from his position on the deck. The old captain was ringed by his warriors, who were themselves surrounded by Eleanor's dead crewmen. "Your mistress showed me honor by accepting my surrender, I will extend you that same honor. Cease this fighting and spare the lives of your men."

"But you see, Captain Deudermont, we are already dead," Eleanor returned in a lamenting voice as she stood shakily at the prow of her ship. She did not speak as she normally would have, it was almost as if she was a different person as she let flow her words, "we are a doomed crew. If we surrender, your authorities will put us to death. If we fight we will die as well. We will not be executed like rabid animals."

"Then pray tell me what has become of my ship and crew," Deudermont asked, "tell me that at least."

"My mistress has your ship and the survivors of your crew are guests in her home. Your wizard is dead though." The news was as a blow to the old captain.

"I have nothing more to tell you, Captain," Eleanor finished.

"Are you so willing to die," Deudermont asked sadly. Eleanor laughed loud and mournful.

"I have been dying for years," she returned, "if you truly wish to show me mercy, then let me continue to fight until I am slain." Eleanor brandished her sword and jumped onto the rail.

A loud twang sounded and the pirate captain froze in place. The shaft of the arrow was still quivering when she looked down and saw it lodged in her breast-bone. She was smiling broadly when she lifted her gaze. Deudermont was staring at her in what almost seemed like horror. The few surviving members of her crew wore astonished and disbelieving looks on their faces.

Eleanor grinned widely, spat a swallow of blood from her mouth, and fell backwards.

She was dead before she hit the upper deck. Her eyes were closed. Her sword lay at her side. Blood stained her wound and a smile was on her lips.

To be continued...

AN : That concludes part 2 of Mirror Me Dark. Questions? Comments? Suggestions? I'd like to hear them. Is the story still good or should I just ditch it all together? Should I go into deeper detail of my added characters' past? Probably should mention that the later chapters are going to be melancholy. I've already written part of the last chapter and it's gory... very gory. Plus some really bad things are about to happen to Zandrath and Dagasta.

Also if anybody can tell me what language the drandil are speaking (one letter is modified in my version) then I'll be very impressed. I'll try to think of some kind of cool prize. Until next time.

Truly yours,

Semdai Bloodquill


	13. Part 3 : Temples

Disclaimer : Only the various people who don't appear in the actual RAS books belong to me. Everything else may as well be behind glass walls.

**Mirror Me Dark**

By Semdai Bloodquill

**Part Three : Temples**

_All things have a beginning, and so too must all things be possessed of an ending. With the light that accompanies the rising of the sun, so the dark of dusk follows behind. A mighty demon born in the pits of the deepest circle of the Abyss knows nothing of the true secrets of immortality. Even the great Liches of the world, reveling in their stagnant states of being, are felled by the sword and the spear and the arrow. _

_We are all possessed of a beginning and an end. A prelude and an epilogue. A birth and a death. It is the nature of all things and the great cycle to which all things belong. Humans, dwarves, elves, demons, even gods. We all die. By age, sickness, sword, and neglect are we all claimed by death. _

_Yet great in its way is death. A most mysterious and powerful entity. A killer of mortals and gods alike. Our last partner in the dance of life._

_For indeed life is but a grand ball with a highly skilled orchestra. And we are the dancers. Sometimes our dances are graceful and elegant, much like those of the light elves, gliding softly and carefully across the floor. Other dances are mystical, tribal even, akin to the barbarians of Icewind Dale. There are the shaman dancers of the goblins and the orcs. Wild and frightening, but as powerful as any other dance, clothed s they are by the remains of their foes. Drow dance only to please the Spider Queen, thus are they always motivated to be the best. Humans are wondrously versatile creatures. They mimic all other styles at yet can make them all seem there own. _

_The drandil are most magnificent dancers. They are attired in beautiful, ritual clothing, silks and satins of all colors that shimmer and flow, adorned with bells and jewelry of all metals. They're steps are incredibly unique for they move with unfaltering grace and a melancholy loveliness that sets them apart from other elves. Humans have named such steps as 'belly-dancing.' Seductive, sad, joyful, all emotions are seen in the dancing of the dragon elves. They move alone, a lonely, solitary dancer, yet can captivate the eyes of all the watchers. They move together and are so perfectly in-tuned to each other that they appear as avatars of the gods of the dance itself. _

_And now we come to our orchestra. The finest to ever grace the world of music. Perhaps the Aruine made musical instruments as their holiest of items because they were enlightened to the orchestra of life. An orchestra with Death as the conductor._

_A very wise, old elf once said to me a phrase I shall never forget. "Life has always been a dance, it is only fitting that Death sing the tune." _

_She was right._

- Nessa Seralon


	14. 11 Enemies and Allies

Disclaimer : This is getting tedious... I own nothing... I am nothing... I will amount to nothing... My life means nothing... heavy sigh... I wonder if Jeremy is still reading this fic? If you ARE still reading this, Jeremy, please review. If not... oh well. It benefits the reader(s) at this point in the story to recall and keep in mind that our dear friend Artemis Entreri has believed since the end of _The Silent Blade_ that Drizzt is dead. Time to become engrossed with Rammstein and write another chapter while under the influence of German rock.

Also worth noting : I have come across problems in posting. When the scene changes between groups of characters the marks I usually use to indicate this have not been showing up recently. To combat this I'm going to place the word 'Meanwhile' between different scenes. The things we authors put up with to keep our stuff going. Grrr...

**Mirror Me Dark**

By Semdai Bloodquill

**Chapter Eleven : Enemies and Allies**

Zandrath moved silently beneath the trees of the forest that bordered the drow encampment. The young drow glided from shadow to shadow, his head hanging limp from his shoulders, his eyes downcast. His hood covered his white hair and the gloom of the trees helped to disguise his dark skin.

" _Vendui_, little one," a soft, whimsical voice greeted from Zandrath's left. The young drow turned his head toward the voice and was awarded a fleeting glance of white. " Why are you all alone," the melodic voice asked almost sadly.

" Only the mad would dare accompany me," Zandrath lamented, turning about. Abruptly, the Baenre stopped, his hood was lopsided from spinning, covering the entirety of his left side. Before him, seated on a large, moss-covered boulder, was the White Queen.

Even through only his injured eye, Zandrath could immediately sense that he stood in the presence of something great. Slowly he pushed back his hood, not caring that he was exposing himself as a drow. The white figure gazed upon him with her soft, gentle eyes, without judgment and exempt of hate. Humbled as if a god had suddenly blessed, Zandrath knelt before the White Queen.

" If you are a righteous goddess then I pray you tell me what name I must now worship," he begged.

" I am no goddess, child," Shiroinohi assured, " I am as mortal as yourself."

" If not a goddess than what," Zandrath asked. Shiroinohi slid slowly off the boulder and walked slowly but gracefully to Zandrath. The little drow lifted his head in time to see the White Queen place her hands on his face. Her touch was akin to cool morning dew.

" I have been searching for you, drow child with the golden eyes," she whispered, " you must stay strong. I know what you came into this forest to do and you must not follow this plan through. We need you to stand with us when the time comes."

Zandrath was taken aback, but his innate drow nature would not let him show it. How did this mysterious lady know his plans?

" You are a remarkable elf, Zandrath Baenre," Shiroinohi said, brushing her delicate fingers across the young drow's face, " leave the blade sheathed. My people and I will need you very soon. Your brother is coming with a gift from your mother. There is a curse upon this gift and you must steel yourself against it. Do not give yourself over to the ways of your people." She touched his chest just above his rapidly pulsing heart, " Especially when your heart rejects such ways." Zandrath's golden eyes glinted.

" Tell me your name, White Lady," he begged, " that I can give some reality to this dream."

" Queen Shiroinohi Tavalone," the white lady answered. She bent down and kissed Zandrath's forehead tenderly, " I will see you again, Zandrath."

Then she was gone, vanished like a raindrop into the sea. Zandrath slid to his knees. His heart hurt within his chest, aching and longing for something unknown to him. He bent doubled over in the grass, his golden eyes burning with tears, and cried like a sad and lonely child.

_Meanwhile..._

Nessa held out her arms, willing the last remnants of her spell away. The desert air was hot with midday around her and he others.

Lazuli shook her head to clear away the dizziness, frustration mounting within her. So close to her home but held back, even momentarily, by simple nausea.

Binx was on top of the nearest dune as fast as her legs would carry her. Squinting in the blazing sun, her ivory hair whipping in the winds, Binx peered over the dunes and saw the great, sprawling, desert city of Calimport.

" Is that it, Father," she called back to Drizzt.

The ranger joined his daughter on the sand dune and followed her gaze. " That's Calimport," Drizzt confirmed.

" Let's go then," Lazuli urged impatiently, " every minute is precious time." The young assassin easily climbed the dunes and set a beeline for the gates.

" So, who is it," Binx asked when she caught up to Lazuli, " who are you trying to save?"

Lazuli stared at the drow girl beside her acidly. She opened her mouth to say something cold but was silenced when the two of them reached the city gates. Armed guards were stationed at the entrance.

" Go away, you little brats," the closest guard hissed at them.

Drizzt and Nessa reached the gates then, both of them mounted on huge, Underdark lizards. Sordath and Reigaldus followed directly behind on a third reptilian mount, flanked by Wulfgar and Catti-brie on the left and Bruenor and Regis on the right.

" Is that how you treat Miran Royalty, here in Calimport," Nessa spat venomously, " stand aside, _colnbluth_, or I will strike you dead where you stand." The guards hastily backed away to make room as the lizards passed. Reigaldus turned his head toward the startled guards and grinned evilly at them, showing off his fangs as he smiled.

" Come," Drizzt ordered to Lazuli, offering her his hand. Binx had already mounted behind her mother. Lazuli reached up to take the ranger's hand and noticed that her skin was as black as his.

" What's this magic," she hissed in Drizzt's ear once she was behind him, " what have you done to me?"

" A simple illusion, nothing more," Drizzt explained, " Nessa put it up so you would get in with us without question. She put one on the others as well." Sure enough, when Lazuli looked back the halfling, dwarf and two humans accompanying them appeared to be normal drow as well, all of them richly dressed.

" And the lizards," Lazuli pressed.

" Also false," Drizzt continued, " conjured from wind and sand."

" Two things never in short supply in Calimshan," Nessa remarked from her lizard. Drizzt chuckled at the remark.

The troop turned down a side alley and dismounted the lizards. Nessa waggled her fingers in a complex pattern and the beasts collapsed into piles of sand. Their disguises fell away as well.

Nessa sighed softly to and whispered something in her brother's ear. Reigaldus listened to his sister's instructions carefully, nodded his head, and said, " I understand."

" I'll see you at dusk," Nessa finished, clapping Reig on the shoulder. He returned the gesture solemnly. Lazuli felt a shiver course down her spine watching the two drow siblings exchange words, as if what they were speaking of was a prelude of doom.

Reigaldus turned to leave but stopped when his eyes caught Lazuli staring at him. He grinned his trademark smirk and winked his right eye. The eye turned from green to gold with the gesture, then Reigaldus melted into the numerous alleyways.

" You should lead from here on, Miss Entreri," Nessa advised, " you know this city better than I do."

" My house is on the other side of Shackles Ward, in the southwestern corner of the city," Lazuli pointed out, " We live in the slums west of the Armada Ward."

" Lead the way," Nessa said, " lead the way."

_Meanwhile..._

Melkor's great wings pumped with a loud _whooshing_ sound. The black dragon spiraled happily on a warm air current, clutching his newly plundered treasure tightly in his talons. Seivriel was glad for the harness that kept her from falling to her death.

The pirate leader thought about Lazuli as Melkor made his way back to Asavir's Channel. Seivriel wondered if her daughter had made it back to Calimport yet. Had she found the cure for the plague?

Seivriel reached for her sentient violin, and remembered that it was no longer strapped to her back. The absence of its voice in the back of her mind was strange after carrying the living instrument for nearly half a century.

" You miss your Dalabrian," Melkor stated matter-of-factly as he landed gracefully on the wide ledge outside the high cavern that served as his home.

" More it feels strange not having it," Seivriel corrected, unbuckling the leather harness and sliding off Melkor's shoulders.

" You wish you could have gone with the girl," Melkor sniffed, lifting his arrow-shaped head up proudly as black dragons are inclined to do when they feel superior. " Don't deny it. You may be a Draegloth, Pirate Lady, but you are still half mortal." The young dragon settled himself inside his cave.

" I won't stand for racism in my presence, Melkor," Seivriel warned, " I am of noble blood however mixed it is."

" Balors are noble only to the Tanar'ri," Melkor countered. His comment stung Seivriel's half-demon spirit. Tanar'ri were the creatures of the Abyss and the Balor were the most powerful of them all. Only roughly a dozen were in existence.

" Them I am royalty on both sides of the light," Seivriel defended herself by drawing on her father's race, the Drandil.

" I permit your insolence only because I respect your father's people," Melkor warned.

" You permit my insolence because it amuses you," Seivriel teased.

" You are the first Draegloth I have ever known with such a sense of humor," Melkor snorted.

" You know you enjoy this bantering as much as I do," Seivriel pressed, " propriety aside, you know it in your heart of hearts that you and your friends are fond of me."

" Because you wield a Dalabrian with such skill," the black dragon huffed indignantly. Seivriel jumped onto Melkor's shoulders and put her arms around his neck in a friendly embrace.

" Mizutatsu's not mine anymore," she reminded, " I have passed it on to my daughter. She's so much more pure than I will ever be."

_Meanwhile..._

" Sir!," the scout came tearing into Terrell chamber in hysterics.

" Calm yourself man," Terrell ordered, placing a strip of black ribbon into the book he had been reading, " what's amiss?"

" Lazuli's back in the city," the scout notified, " and she's not alone."

" What has the little assassin brought," Terrell asked calmly.

" Our spies say it's the Companions of the Hall," the scout reported, " as well as three dark elves."

" The Companions of the Hall?"

" None other. Even the fabled Drizzt Do'Urden."

" Drizzt Do'Urden has been dead for nearly thirty years," Terrell objected, " Artemis Entreri killed him."

" One of our men swears it's him," the scout defended.

" Either way this is bad luck on our part," Terrell sighed wearily, " how is Jarlaxle? I was told he was sick."

" Very sick. He's bleeding from the inside."

" And Entreri?"

" Won't leave Jarlaxle's side."

_Meanwhile..._

Before she even stepped through the door, Lazuli could tell something was wrong. The front door hung open ever so slightly. Artemis would never have allowed such a slip in their defenses.

" Something's not right here," Lazuli said softly. Drizzt turned to the young assassin.

" The door's open," he asked, " is that it?"

" Father always makes sure the doors are closed," Lazuli explained, " Jarlaxle likes leaving the inside doors open to annoy him, but never the front door."

" I'll go first," Nessa offered. When she received no objection, the drow sorceress willed the door open and ventured inside. " Safe," she reported after a minute of observing.

Lazuli was the first one to enter behind Nessa. The girl began moving quickly throughout the house. " Father? Jarlaxle?" Lazuli called their names repeatedly, but no answer came.

Drizzt stayed at the entrance to the little house, as if on sentry duty. Binx followed Lazuli until the little assassin broke down in the doorway of Jarlaxle's room. Lazuli leaned against the wall heavily, tears dripping from her gray eyes, as she beheld the place in shambles.

Bruenor, Wulfgar, and Regis began scouting around the perimeter of the house, searching for clues as to the disappearance of Entreri and Jarlaxle. Sordath silently set himself as a rooftop sentry, and Nessa glided noiselessly throughout the abandoned house.

Catti-brie waited until they were alone before approaching Drizzt. The drow ranger did not turn to face her as he spoke.

" The man we're looking for thinks I'm dead," Drizzt began, " do you think it foolish for me to seek him out?"

" I don't know why you wish to aid his daughter," Catti-brie stated.

" Jarlaxle saved my life," Drizzt explained, " in the tower, when Entreri struck me down, Jarlaxle ordered his cleric to save me. Then he allowed Entreri to believe that I was dead, freeing him from his own doubts. When you were his prisoner in Menzoberranzan, Jarlaxle did not abuse you."

" What's your point, Drizzt," Catti-brie asked almost cynically, " he's still a ruthless killer."

" He may not be a saint," Drizzt admitted, " but if I abandon him, then I can't call myself a true ranger of Meilikki. I owe Jarlaxle my life and if I do nothing to at least try to save his..." Drizzt's lavender eyes closed momentarily before resuming their unseeing stare.

" How's Sordath," asked Catti-brie, trying to change the subject.

" He hasn't spoken since Monty died," Drizzt replied, " he's hurting inside from missing his brother. Regretting things he thinks he should have done."

" How can you tell?"

" Because I felt the same way after Zaknafein died."

The auburn-haired woman put her arms around Drizzt and held him close. His scent filled her nose as she buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled like the outdoors. The drow ranger put his arm around her as well in response. His purple eyes continued to keep watch.

Catti-brie stared at Drizzt. How could he be so calm and wise when he was still so young by drow years? How could he bear to see his oldest son die in his arms and somehow find the resolve to rise up and offer his aid to an old enemy? What awesome power was Drizzt Do'Urden's spirit that he could go on after so much tragedy?

Meanwhile...

It was nightfall when the small flock of pegasi landed in Calimport. Tanarial had no trouble dismounting the winged horse, but Zerial fell on his rump.

" You're certainly the lord of grace today," Tanarial joked, helping his brother to his feet.

" So this is Calimport," Zerial marveled, " it's even bigger than Memnon."

" This is the farthest south we've ever been," Tanarial added.

" If only we had something to drink we could toast to that," put in Zerial.

Tanarial leaned against the closest pegasus and sighed, " now we just have to find this drow family." The elder of the brothers surveyed their surroundings. The pegasi had landed on a second-story rooftop that doubled as a balcony. A third-story rose up beside them on the right, a closed door on the far end of the balcony undoubtedly lead inside.

" A family of drow shouldn't be too hard to find," Zerial said cheerfully.

Tanarial became suspicious of the third-story rooftop, for some strange reason the hairs on his nape were prickling.

" Something wrong," Zerial asked, alert creeping through his body.

" Remember the feeling you got right before we met Spinalo," Zerial nodded simply at the question, " I'm having a similar feeling."

Both brothers turned toward the third rooftop in unison... and were met by a pair of soulful, yellow eyes.

To be continued...

When Nessa mentions Miran Royalty, she is referring to a very little known place called the Forest of Mir. Exactly where this forest is, I don't know. I do know that the place is a small community of dark elves located somewhere between Ahm and Calimshan. See _The Halfling's Gem_. Also, Shackles Ward, Asavir's Channel and the other places mentioned by Lazuli and Seivriel are real places in the series. I spent many laborious hours pouring over my RAS books and comparing various maps to get and accurate idea of the FR world.

Ending comments : I feel so bad for taking so long to update. I'm sorry! (begs forgiveness) Recently my home computer started acting very odd and now it crashes on a regular basis. Stupid piece of junk. On top of that mess I have school. My parents will skin me alive if I get another D in math. I can't help it! Math is asinine! Not to mention my other works. The Halloweenies is almost finished, one more chapter and it will be complete, then I can start on the sequel : The Halloweenies Raid Again. Not so worried about the Mini-Halloweenies. Being a mini-series with no real end I can pick it up and put it down anytime. No Schedules! Cold Fire Phantoms (Legacy of Kain) almost crashed with the computer but now I can get back on it. That story won't be as long as this one but it takes just as long to write a CFP chap as it does to write an MMD one. Sigh. I encourage people to read CFP, the story is quite a bit darker than this one and there's a lot more questions regarding Fate and Time, especially for those who have played the Legacy of Kain games (PS and PS2). I'll say no more here. I've wasted enough time. Until next time, Feel Free to Flame!

Truly yours, Semdai Bloodquill.


	15. 12 Great Distances

Disclaimer : I deserve to be drawn and quartered for taking so long with this chapter. I do all-together too much stuff. What with school, acting, and my Dad hogging the computer it's a wonder anything gets done. Still that is no excuse. If any of my beloved readers are still with me: I don't deserve your attention!

It should be said that I am still having problems with punctuation when I switch from one party of characters to another. So please bear with me on that issue until I find a way to resolve it.

**Mirror Me Dark**

By Semdai Bloodquill

**Chapter Twelve : Great Distances **

Entreri had never seen a sorrier sight in all his long years. Jarlaxle had grown worse than the old assassin had feared. The aged, drow mercenary was hardly conscious anymore, at least not in the sense of being coherent as well as awake. Often Jarlaxle simply lay on his back, his faded, once scarlet eyes half-glazed and half-open in his delirium. Nothing stayed in his stomach very long before it was forced out, accompanied by buckets of blood. Artemis had to wonder to himself how Jarlaxle was even still alive.

Then he remembered how stubborn and spirited Jarlaxle was and returned to his constant vigil over his companion.

The Night Eyes didn't exactly treat them badly, but that made no improvement of them in Artemis Entreri's opinion. He refused the food he was offered and would not allow anyone to approach Jarlaxle. Nor did the old assassin risk sleeping for any amount of time.

Yet, Entreri knew he could not keep up his defiance for very long. He was not young anymore and not as resilient as he once was. He needed to eat and rest soon.

Entreri's thoughts drifted to his daughter. Where was she in her quest? Had she returned to the city only to find him and Jarlaxle gone? Did she guess what had happened to them? Had she met up with Seivriel yet? Did she suspect that the Draegloth pirate was her mother?

If so, how would the discovery affect her?

Jarlaxle's voice stirred Entreri from his thoughts. " Artemis," the old drow moaned, his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

" I'm here," Entreri reassured, reaching out and touching Jarlaxle's forehead. It was dangerously cold to the touch. The dark elf's midnight black skin had paled to a dusty charcoal in several patches.

" Where's Lazuli?" Jarlaxle coughed.

" She's on her way back here," Artemis lied. Why make Jarlaxle suffer more?

" I miss her," the sick drow cried softly. A bloody tear slipped from his eye. Artemis regarded the tear with surprise. He had believed the evil dark elves were incapable of tears.

" So do I," Entreri sighed. " I hope she's all right."

" He'll help her..." Jarlaxle closed his eyes and smiled. " I know he'll come. He's just like his father after all..."

Entreri was confused for only a moment. Then he realized who Jarlaxle was speaking of.

" You mean Drizzt, don't you?" He demanded softly. " He never died in that tower. That's why you dragged me away from him, so you could save him without me finding out. You tricked me."

Jarlaxle opened his eyes again. Surprisingly, Artemis was stung by the genuine pain and guilt in the drow's eyes.

" Yes. I deceived you. You could not give up your pride, so I did what I felt I had to."

" Why did you not let him die then? Surely you knew I would find out sooner or later."

" I couldn't. His father was the only friend I ever had in Menzoberranzan." Jarlaxle grimaced in pain. " I couldn't let Zaknafein's legacy die like that..."

" I think I understand." Artemis reached out and clasped Jarlaxle's cold hand tightly. " You rest now and regain your strength. I may need your help tonight." Jarlaxle smiled weakly before settling back into his pillow, asleep again.

Entreri's mind tossed and turned chaotically. Drizzt was still alive. Where did that leave him? He wasn't a famous killer in the shadows anymore. He just wanted to go on living his quiet life with Jarlaxle and Lazuli.

It was strange admitting such a thing, if only to himself. What would his twenty-year-old self think if they met on the street? The great, legendary Artemis Entreri hiding away so he could be with his friend and his daughter? Artemis laughed quietly to himself. What had he become?

He stood up and strolled to the center of the room. The only window was an opening in the middle of the ceiling, six or seven feet above his head. They had two cots, two chairs, and a table in the room. Simple, old furniture not worth anything better than kindling, except for prisoners.

Entreri thought back, trying to remember something Seivriel had once told him.

" _If something ever happens to you, Artemis, you can call on me for help."_

" _I thought we were agreeing to stay apart, for Lazuli's sake?"_

" _Still, I'm indebted to you. If you ever need my help, call for me and I'll come."_

She'd said something then in an unfamiliar language, but for the life of him, Artemis just couldn't remember more than a couple of words. _...Meihar estarubar_.

At the time he had assumed Seivriel was saying good bye, but now he wasn't so sure. Seivriel loved riddles, and delighted in leaving them behind for people. Perhaps she had left him a way to call for her after all?

He began to pace slowly as he racked his memories, searching for anything that might help. Then he remembered something. Small and seemingly insignificant, but he remembered it now. When Lazuli was still a baby, Seivriel would sing to her. Not an unusual feat, but the song had stuck with Entreri because of how odd it was. The whole song rhymed perfectly except for the last line, '_I'll turn your foes to ash and char_.' It stood out all by itself with nothing to attach it to the rest of the song.

_Meihar Estarubar._

Artemis stopped in the center of the room and looked up. It was late in the afternoon, judging by how much light was left. Using that assumption, Entreri pinpointed south, where the sea ought to be. Turning to face the southern wall, Entreri inhaled deeply. " It's worth a try."

He let his breath out slowly, calming his anxious nerves. He held out his arms in front of him, palms up, and pictured Seivriel as he remembered her. He held her image in his mind and closed his eyes. Nervously, he began to sing:

_Point yourself toward the sea _

_and call out to me_

_Stretch out your arm _

_as you say my charm_

_Grasp the sky tight_

_and in shadow or light_

_I'll turn your foes to ash and char_

MEIHAR ESTARUBAR!

He shouted the foreign words, hoping that he was not totally mistaken.

Someone placed their hands in his. He opened his eyes and saw Seivriel's face smiling back at him warmly. He could almost see through her, as if she were made of smoke and dust, yet he could easily feel her holding his outstretched hands firmly but gently.

" I wondered if you would ever call for me, Artemis. You're such a proud, stubborn person. Just like our daughter."

When Reigaldus arrived at the newly inhabited house, he found, to no surprise, that they had visitors. Sordath had been the first to encounter the gold elves when they landed on the roof (Reig learned this later). Lazuli's somber disposition had not improved since her return home.

The elusive outcast was met by the equally elusive Dinin on his way in. Apparently, Dinin had no interest in hearing what the two faerie elves had to say. The diminishing of his hard-beaten drow beliefs was infinitesimal. Reig chose to remain at Dinin's side for the time being.

" No love for our pale cousins," Reig probed, leaning casually against the wall. Dinin scowled at him fiercely. " I was just asking," Reig said in his defense, holding his hands out in surrender.

" You astound me," Dinin remarked. " Your behavior belies the color of your skin. Were you not brought up in drow society?"

" Yes and no," was Reig's answer. " I'm a third born son."

" Then why are you even alive," Dinin asked. According to drow custom, every third born son was killed at birth as an offering to the Spider Queen.

" Nessa saved me," Reig explained. " She took me out of Menzoberranzan to her secret home in the Underdark. She raised me there in the wilds."

" That explains so much," Dinin said dryly.

" You're certainly chipper today," Reig remarked sarcastically. " Why such a sour disposition?"

Dinin scowled again. " I can't understand the ways of this surface world. It goes against everything I've ever known."

" You'll get used to it," Reig quipped, nudging Dinin playfully, " try to break those centuries of conditioning. Didn't you hate always being less than equal to the opposite sex?" Dinin glared at Reig, but it held no real malice. Reigaldus took this to mean that he had made his point and offered his signature smirk in reply.

" How old are you," Dinin asked, his consternation eminent on his angular face.

" Ninety-eight," Reigaldus replied as he stretched his arms above his head. A satisfying pop informed him that his arms could reach no higher.

" How are you so world-wise when you're barely more than a child," Dinin exclaimed.

" I don't know," Reigaldus shrugged. " I just am."

" Do you have any family besides your sister," Dinin found he wanted to know more about this strange young brother-in-law.

" I have a twin brother," Reig said nonchalantly, " but he's still living in Menzoberranzan."

" Is he as strange as you?"

" Possibly more, but in his own way," Reig said. " He was brought up in proper drow society, but he had our sister as his ween mother and she, shall we say, ruined him for Lloth. He passes for a typical drow though. I believe he gets some sort of pleasure fooling Triel into thinking otherwise."

" Matron Triel?" Dinin asked.

" Oh yes," Reig grinned sheepishly. " I forgot to mention, he's the current patron of House Baenre."

" I'm not as surprised as I should be," Dinin remarked, " but patron of the first House?"

Reigaldus grinned proudly. " He has two sons from Triel as well."

" Aren't you afraid he'll be discovered for the heretic that he is?" Dinin questioned. " Won't that mean the end of your little game?"

" Why should you care?" Reig asked slyly.

" I'm assuming that you and Nessa would be sad over your brother's death," Dinin explained quickly.

" We would, and we keep such fears ever-present in the back of our minds," Reig said, " but I think it odd that such a thought would occur to you."

Dinin had no quick retort for Reig's remark, but the eccentric young drow didn't press the matter. He just smiled.

" So you see," Tanarial was saying.

" We need you to come back with us," Zerial finished.

" Why should we believe ye?" Bruenor demanded. " The two o' ye rode in here on black horses an' all."

" They mean us no harm, Bruenor," Drizzt countered calmly, " and I believe their mounts should add credit to their story rather than diminish it."

" How so?" The old dwarf challenged, though he was half-teasing at this point.

" Only one of the fabled Drandil could have bred black pegasi of such fine quality," the drow ranger pointed out. " I doubt any light elf would take the time and effort needed to raise such creatures."

" Bah!" Bruenor huffed. " All the more reason not to trust these Dragon Elves."

" He's only being a dwarf," Drizzt whispered in elvish to the twins, " so don't mind a word he says." The twins giggled quietly.

Bruenor issued another 'bah.' " Won't get me on one o' them flying horses," he grumbled.

" We can't leave until we find Jarlaxle and my father," Lazuli protested from her chair. The golden-eyed kitten in her lap meowed urgently, which seemed to add her own approval.

" I shall consult my scrying bowl for answers, Miss Entreri," Nessa offered.

" Will that be enough?" Lazuli tested. Like her father, the young assassin was leery of magic.

" We shall see," Nessa replied. " Don't forget, Jarlaxle is also a dear friend of mine." Lazuli let the subject be after that.

The cavern beneath the Ebony Manor was as dark as a cloudy, moonless night. Still, the lack of light was no hindrance for Seivriel with her eyes shifted to Infravision. The vast cave smelled heavily of smoke and sulfur.

" Greetings, Miss Versail," the inhabitant of the cavern welcomed. His voice was deep and it seemed to make the whole cave rumble beneath Seivriel's feet.

" I trust you've had a pleasant ten-year sleep," the pirate leader said cheerily. " I noticed you didn't try to fry me when I came in."

" You're obviously no worse for the years we've been apart," the cave-dweller chuckled. " Now what brings you all the way down here to my luxurious home?"

" You might not have noticed in your sleep but we have three new dragons in the Manor," Seivriel stated.

" I know."

" Of course they're young dragons," Seivriel added, " not nearly as old and mighty as you, Deizan." She received a low chuckle for her flattery.

" You haven't changed since I met you," Deizan rumbled.

" How long has it been? Fifty, sixty years?" Seivriel reminisced.

" Seventy," Deizan corrected.

" Has it really been so long?" Seivriel sighed.

" You'll be ninety-three this year, right," Deizan asked.

" Yes."

" Sixty-nine years then," Deizan decided.

" How time flies."

" I noticed that your violin isn't with you for once," Deizan remarked. " Has it passed on to it's next wielder?"

" You could say that."

Deizan shifted from his position and let out a quick belch of flame. Fire sprang up all along the walls of the vast cave, illuminating the treasure-filled space. Deizan's horde paid due homage to his great age and many adventures.

Piles of glittering jewels and fabulous pieces of art crowded the high walls. Priceless statues of long-dead gods and goddesses stood regally in specially made alcoves, piles of shining coinage at their bases. Ornamental weapons from a multitude of different eras were hung from mantles on the walls and scattered hither and yon on the floor.

But however magnificent the piles of treasure, it all paled before Deizan himself.

Deizan's scales were a deep, bloody scarlet red. His enormous slanted eyes glowed a vibrant sea-green. Rows of spines and horns lined the old dragon's back and shoulders. Deizan stood up to his full height and stretched his wings which were fully twice the size of his massive body.

" Who wields the Dalabrian now?" Deizan demanded regally.

" My daughter," Seivriel replied. Suddenly her skin started to itch. Her hair bristled like someone was watching her.

" Someone is calling to you, Miss Versail," Deizan observed, settling back down on his pile of treasure. " I will wait."

Antioch's arrival on the scene confirmed the White Queen's words. Zandrath's emerald-eyed twin did indeed have a gift from their mother. The dagger immediately set off Zandrath's mental alarms. He could almost feel the waves of manipulation the blade emitted. It was with great reluctance that he attached the loathsome thing to his belt.

" How many faeries has your squad killed so far?" Antioch questioned.

" We have not met with the light elves yet," Zandrath replied blandly. " Our concern has been the fortification of our base and the gathering of familiarity with the area. We have made some highly detailed maps if you wish to look them over yourself." His voice almost became a sneer. Zandrath silently cursed his mother's 'gift.'

" I suppose I shouldn't expect anything more from you," Antioch said snobbishly. Either Antioch was immune to the dagger's powers or he was already so down-right awful that it didn't matter. Zandrath found this to be an amusing thought. Even the enspelled dagger couldn't make his twin any worse than he already was.

" I wonder why you even bothered to ask," Zandrath mused.

" Mind your tongue, whelp," Antioch glared at him.

Quick as lightning, Zandrath drew his personal knife and slashed a thin line of blood across his brother's left cheek. Antioch reeled back in surprise and reached up to feel the warm liquid oozing from the cut. When he looked up from his bloody fingers, Antioch saw that Zandrath had cut an identical line across his own cheek.

" If I'm a whelp," Zandrath held up his own reddened fingers to emphasize his point, " then so are you, since our blood is exactly alike." Antioch lunged at Zandrath out of pure rage.

Zandrath twisted out of the way and landed a kick to the back of Antioch's knee. The elder twin went crashing down.

" At least _try_ to humor me," Zandrath taunted. " After all, Mother doesn't want the faeries alerted of our presence until she deems it appropriate. We'll have to settle for fighting amongst ourselves."

" Keep it up," Antioch snarled. " It will make it all the sweeter when I kill you."

" Praise to you then," Zandrath scoffed. " Let me know how that turns out." He sighed and retreated into his personal chamber.

" You dare to turn your back on me?" Antioch hissed. Zandrath turned and faced him.

" Yes, I think I do. Here, watch me do it again!" Zandrath spun around jovially and turned his back to his flabbergasted twin. " Now it's my turn to dare you to do something," the golden-eyed drow giggled. " I DARE you to stab me in the back! Go on! Right between the shoulder blades! Drop me like a stone with one crippling blow!"

" You are insane," Antioch marveled in mock horror.

" So glad you noticed," chirped the mad brother. " Now if you don't mind, I'd like to rest before we strike out on the first raid." Zandrath muttered several arcane phrases and Antioch was suddenly thrown from the room. The sane brother tumbled end over end in the dirt and stopped several paces away from the cave's entrance.

Zandrath's giggling laughter carried back to him.

Nessa poured the cold water into her scrying bowl and began humming softly over it. Lazuli hovered nearby watching the drow sorceress intently. Nessa touched the water with one of her delicate fingers and the surface began to shimmer. An image formed before Nessa's eyes that made her heart ache.

" What do you see?" Lazuli leaned eagerly over the opposite side of the bowl.

" It is worse than I feared," Nessa sighed heavily.

The image was of Jarlaxle.

" He is dying." The sorceress touched the surface again as she muttered more words under her breath. The water re-formed to show Entreri pacing back and forth across his cell. He looked thin and miserable. There were dark smudges beneath his sinking eyes and his clothes looked very dirty.

" Were are they? Can't you find that out?" Worry was evident in Lazuli's voice.

" Let's first see who it is that has taken them prisoner but not dared to kill them." Nessa calmly touched the water again.

The image of a man sitting behind a desk and reading a book appeared before them. Another man entered in a frenzy and said something to the seated man. Both men exited the room in a hurry.

" That was Terrell Dathane," Lazuli exclaimed.

" Friend of yours?"

" Not exactly. He tried to get us to join his fledgling guild. Father was, well, less than willing. I guess he's still holding a grudge."

" What worries me is that he would kidnap them but not kill them." Nessa thought for a moment before speaking again. " Can you lead us to his guildhouse?"

" Sure. It's on the other side of Shackle's Ward." Artemis had made certain that Lazuli knew where the guildhouse was so that she could easily stay away from it.

" Then that's where we shall go. One last look at Entreri first." She touched the water a third time and Entreri reappeared. But this time he was not alone, a ghost-like Seivriel floated before him. It appeared that they were conversing, but the scrying device did not provide them with sound.

" Is that Seivriel?"

" I think it's an apparition of her," Nessa corrected. " Or maybe she's teleporting across a great distance and it's taking a while for her to solidify."

Lazuli stared at the two of them in sudden understanding. Seeing the two of them together, Artemis and Seivriel, she began to pick out things. She and Artemis had the same eyes and her hair was dark like his, but it was wavy like Seivriel's was. She had Seivriel's height too and her angular face. Even the pirate's thin, pointed nose was the same as hers. She was lithely built like Artemis was, but then so was Seivriel.

Why hadn't she seen it sooner?

Seivriel was her mother!

Seivriel was somehow becoming more solid the longer Entreri looked at her.

" Are you really here?" he asked.

" Not yet," she answered. " It's a long way from here to Out Haven. Teleporting over such a distance takes time, even for a Draegloth. How's Jarlaxle?"

" He gets worse every minute," Artemis replied. " He can't eat or drink. He just gets weaker and weaker." The two of them approached Jarlaxle.

" I have an idea." Seivriel, still not quite solid, rushed to the door. " They took your sword and dagger when they captured you, right?"

" Yes."

" Wait a moment." Seivriel got down on all fours and examined the scant amount of space between the door and the floor. There was barely enough room for a mouse. She slipped her hand into the space and watched as her arm stretched and flattened and slid easily under the door. She smiled. " I'll be right back." The pirate queen pushed herself the rest of the way under the door and slunk away down the corridor.

Entreri just stared in amazement.

The door opened a few minutes later as Seivriel returned carrying their confiscated weapons over her shoulder.

" Miss me?" she asked playfully. Then she turned serious again. " We have to work quickly if we're going to escape."

" Not to put a damper on your spirits, but how are we to get Jarlaxle out too?"

Seivriel handed Entreri his jewel-encrusted dagger, a solemn expression on her face. " Use this."

She set the rest of the equipment down and held out her arm. " Take some to replenish yourself and get Jarlaxle to take enough so he can walk. We'll half to protect him while we go, but at least we won't need to carry him."

Entreri stared at the dagger in his hands and the woman offering herself to him. Could he really bring himself to do it? Take her life force so they could escape? He'd never hesitated to use the dagger's magic before, why now?

Because this time it was being offered to him.

" You know what you're doing?" he asked her in all sincerity.

" Do it quick, Artemis. We don't have much time." was her answer.

" Jarlaxle first then," Entreri insisted. He bent over the drow and shook him gently. " Wake up, Jarlaxle, Seivriel's come to help us. She has something that will help you regain your strength. Come on, wake up." He shook Jarlaxle again.

The drow moaned softly and his eyes opened a sliver.

" Welcome back." Entreri put the dagger in Jarlaxle's cold hand. " Listen to me and do as I tell you," he instructed. " When I tell you to, concentrate on the dagger. Imagine absorbing strength from it. Do you understand?"

The drow managed a single slow, heavy nod.

Seivriel approached. She was almost completely solidified now. Her silver hair was still ghostly, and her face was still partly transparent, but her eyes were hard and determined.

" I'm ready."

Entreri guided Jarlaxle's hand, but he looked away just as the blade sank deep into Seivriel's forearm. " Now, Jarlaxle. Concentrate."

The little color that had returned to Seivriel's face promptly vanished as the dagger began to suck out her vital energy. Her arm quivered slightly, and she winced visibly. She gritted her teeth and shut her eyes.

Entreri swallowed, which was difficult due to the lump rapidly forming in his throat. Seivriel was obviously in pain, but she took it stoically. Entreri felt his heart ache suddenly.

At last, when she could give no more, Seivriel pulled her arm back and fell to the floor. Artemis was by her side in an instant, scooping her up into his arms and holding her tightly.

" Artemis?" It was Jarlaxle speaking, though his voice was barely above a whisper.

" I'm right here," Entreri answered. Seivriel groaned and stood with help from Artemis.

" How do you feel, Jarlaxle?" she asked, leaning over him.

" Hello, Seivriel," the drow whispered. " I feel a little better. What did you give me?"

" I'll tell you if you stand up and come with me." Jarlaxle smiled weakly.

" I can try," he said. He was slow at first but he didn't falter and in no time Jarlaxle was on his feet.

Seivriel retrieved the dagger from the floor where the drow had dropped it and handed it to Entreri. " You'll be needing this."

" I'll get the first peon we meet. You need your strength too," Entreri insisted. Seivriel smiled and let the matter go at that. She handed Entreri Charon's Claw and the sword's glove. She helped Jarlaxle with his magical bracers and put a rapier she had stolen into his hand.

" We should move quickly. I'll lead the way. Jarlaxle will stay behind me. Artemis, cover us from behind," she directed.

" I still can't see very well," Jarlaxle reminded her. " Everything's too blurry to make out much."

" Then be careful where you swing that rapier, an just pretend you can see. Hopefully, we'll be able to fool them if we have to fight."

" Let's go then." Entreri said. He drew his sword.

Reigaldus ruffled Andrazilion's snowy hackles affectionately. " You know what to do, Ander," he said to the astral wolf. Andrazilion growled softly and crept toward the guildhouse.

" Go with him, Guen," Drizzt said to his panther companion. " See if you can find Entreri and Jarlaxle." The panther slipped into the shadows and followed the wolf.

" They make a good pair, don't you think?" Reig commented, holding up Andrazilion's onyx figurine. " Two magnificent hunters. One feline. One canine. Both beautiful."

" You've never told me where you got the wolf's figurine," Drizzt pressed. Ever since he had first met Reig, Drizzt had asked him time and time again where he had acquired Andrazilion. Reig had never answered him.

" Story for another time, Brother," Reig replied slyly. They each pocketed their figurines as followed their astral companions. Bruenor, Catti-brie, and Lazuli shadowed them from their left flank, while Nessa, Wulfgar, and Regis covered the right. Dinin crouched next to Drizzt in their hiding place.

There were two sentries on the roof and one on the ground. A knife thrown by Nessa made short work of the first sentry and Catti-brie's bow, Taulmaril, took out the other two. Regis crept up to the back door and let Andrazilion and Guenwhyvar inside. Drizzt signaled to Nessa and she slithered in behind the astral predators, Wulfgar right behind her. Lazuli managed to get one of the ground floor windows open and she and Bruenor climbed in. Reig got a running jump and levitated himself the rest of the way up to the second level. Dinin followed him, Reig gave him a boost when his own levitation faltered. Drizzt went in through the front entrance, Catti-brie covered him from behind, her bow ready.

Several dead or unconscious guild soldiers already littered the floor. A few globes of darkness and a lingering globe of silence were the only other traces that Nessa had been there.

Then the first sounds of a fight started from somewhere below them.

Seivriel let out a string of curses befitting a veteran pirate. They were having rotten luck. Barely a dozen paces from the cell they had encountered four sentries making their rounds. Three had stayed to fight and the fourth had run off to get reinforcements. The remaining trio had easily forced them into a corner. Seivriel herself still hadn't fully recovered and Entreri was weak from his fast. Furthermore, neither of them could leave Jarlaxle's side for an instant.

They were effectively boxed in.

Seivriel was still oozing blood from the deep gash on her arm and Artemis was bleeding from a hard strike on his hip. Jarlaxle had taken a slash in the shoulder, but he had managed a return strike and one of the sentries at least wasn't using his best hand.

Entreri, all of a sudden, swung Charon's Claw in an arc and a curtain of black ash clouded the air between him and the guard closest to him. In a flash the said guard cried out and fell back, a spurt of blood from his belly indicating that Entreri had succeeded. Seivriel used the distraction to lunge forward and plunge her sword into the chest of the nearest sentry.

They were gambling. Jarlaxle was vulnerable and exposed.

But not helpless. When Entreri returned to the drow's side, Jarlaxle had already downed the last guard with a throwing dagger. The man was still alive and squirming, but the knife in his lung had effectively immobilized him.

" Good shot, Jarlaxle," Entreri congratulated, handing his dagger to the drow. He helped the still half-blind Jarlaxle absorb the dying guard's last bit of life.

" We have to keep moving," Seivriel reminded them, wiping blood off her lips with the back of her hand. Entreri stole a glance at the dead sentry at her feet and immediately wished he hadn't. The man's chest was nothing but a gaping, bloody hole.

Seivriel had eaten his heart.

The three of them resumed their flight, sacrificing stealth for speed. They were stopped, though, when half a dozen more soldiers appeared to block their path. Entreri joined Seivriel's cursing.

They had no chance against so many.

" Artemis," Seivriel whispered to him, " I'm going to charge them. Can you defend Jarlaxle for a few moments?"

" You'll be killed, you crazy pirate," Entreri protested. " Maybe we can fool them again."

" Not this many. Trust me, please," Seivriel was begging. Entreri had never in all the years he had known her heard Seivriel beg for anything.

" I'll do my best," he promised.

" You put up a valiant fight, but I'm afraid you just can't win," the lead guard said haughtily. " If you surrender now we might show you some mercy."

" Not a chance," Jarlaxle spat, much to everyone's surprise.

Seivriel made her move.

She dashed toward the nearest guard and howled like a demon. Her sword flew from her hands and impaled a guard who was too busy holding his ears to dodge. The leader screamed in terror as Seivriel began to change rapidly. Her skinny body thickened and horns grew out of her temples. Ink-black wings sprouted from her back, sparks flared from her mouth and nostrils.

Of course, Seivriel was nothing next to a full-blooded Balor, but to the lowly guild soldiers she was frightening enough. Two of them turned tail and ran right then and there. Another two fled after Seivriel bit through their leader's armor and took out his shoulder all in one bite.

Entreri jerked his dagger out of the last shoulder's chest in time to see Seivriel shift back into her human form. Entreri, forgetting Jarlaxle for the moment, ran to her and threw his arms around her.

" The next time you have a plan, I'm with you all the way," he promised. She offered him a weak smile in thanks.

' Only you, Artemis,' she thought to herself.

Commotion up ahead made the pair split apart. The noise was coming from the top of the twisted staircase the fleeing guards had taken. It sounded like a fight.

" Fight me like a man, you spawn of an orc and a weasel!" a voice yelled angrily. Several cries and crashing sounds followed. Then a body came tumbling down the staircase.

It was a drow. His mane of waist-length, white hair was tied up in a single braid and each pointed ear had half a dozen earrings each. But it was his eyes that were the most striking.

The left eye was a brilliant, emerald green. But the right eye changed color each time the drow blinked, green for one second, then suddenly a magnificent gold the next, then back to green. The drow cursed again, something about a sow and a minotaur that the others didn't quite catch. He stood up and was ready to charge right back up the stairs when he saw Seivriel and Entreri.

" Greetings, Pirate Queen," he said to Seivriel. " I didn't know you'd be here."

" Hello, Reig," Seivriel returned the greeting jovially.

" I'd love to chat, you know I would, but there are still some enemies left upstairs and I have to pay back whoever knocked me down these stairs, so if you'll excuse me," Reig then turned and dashed back up the staircase without another word...

...only to come crashing back down again, this time with an enormous white wolf and a giant black panther on top of him.

" No, no, no, you silly bags of fur! I'm not the enemy!" Reig yelled half angry, half laughing almost to the point of tears. " Now get off me!"

" Reigaldus, are you all right?" a new voice called from the top of the stairs.

" I'm just zany!" Reig yelled back.

The second voice came to the bottom of the stairs just as the wolf and the panther dissolved into thin, gray mist. Reig picked himself up and lightly dusted his clothes. Entreri stiffened at the sight of the newcomer, for he was also a drow, one he knew very well.

The second drow also went rigid when he saw Entreri. For a long time the two of them did not speak, they simply stared at each other.

Entreri finally moved first. He inclined his head to the drow almost politely. " Drizzt."

The purple-eyed drow returned the gesture. " Artemis."

To be continued...

AN : How is everyone enjoying the madness of Zandrath? Really, I wanna know. We aren't going to see a whole lot of him and Antioch for a while. The next chapter is mostly going to be about Deudermont, the Dragon Elves, and the reunion of Drizzt and Entreri. How did everyone like that by the way? Did I do it all right? Please let me know you're still there!


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